A Closer Look In The Snake Nest

Chapter 7

--

Severus snored softly and rolled on his left side. His arm brushed against something warm. Lazily, he half-opened his eyes to take in the angelic image of Lucius Malfoy sleeping sweetly by his side.

Or maybe not so sweetly.

Lucius was actually sprawled over the black silk sheets, occupying more than his half of the bed - in the Malfoy Manor, all bedrooms had beds suitable for two - and nearly throwing Severus to the floor. So far, a mysterious force had kept the raven-haired wizard from falling, but he didn't want to push his luck any longer. His only choice was to move towards Lucius, which he found to be no unwanted task. Eyes gleaming in the dim morning light that trespassed the dark curtains, Severus inched his way slowly and carefully over the silk sheets.

He rested his head next to Lucius' ever so gently, and allowed himself to stare at the Golden Boy's peaceful face.

All of a sudden the grey eyes snapped open and the thin lips curved in a feline smile.

"Hello luv."

He snickered.

"Quit that."

Severus tried to sound annoyed.

Both Slytherins gazed into each other's eyes, doing their best to remain serious. Black was beginning to melt into grey when Lucius moved forward and pressed a quick peck to his lover's lips.

Severus extended a hand to pull the blond head towards his own, capturing the pale mouth with his in a long kiss. They parted and Lucius ran a pinkish tongue over his lips.

"You've got morning breath, Sev."

"And you taste every bit like that bottle we had last night, Lucifer."

"Which one of them?"

"The scotch, of course."

There was a small pause before Lucius breathed in.

"Sev... I've got a bloody hangover."

"Taking into consideration that my mouth has been glued to yours for the most part of the evening, I'd say that I do too."

"I suppose that we should freshen up then."

Severus brushed his fingers through Lucius' silky hair tenderly.

"I think you still smell good."

Lucius leaned on Sev' caress and kissed his palm lightly; then he fixed his gaze in the black pools of his lover's eyes.

"I should go wake Draco."

Severus felt at quite a loss at the moment. Part of him was angry that even when Lucius should be totally absorbed by his own sensations his thoughts still centred on his son. Part of him agreed and wanted to enter Draco's room and make the boy's Christmas merry, and every bit as good as the one he was having.

Severus Snape had never been particularly fond of Christmas. He had spent every single one of them at Hogwarts since he was old enough to do so. He liked to tell himself that he only showed up for the special lunch because the food was exceptionally good, and that that day was like any other. Dress in black, scowl at the students. Make small, angry noises whenever a group of singing ghosts passed by and take extra points from his students for being so happy, especially when he knew that more than half of them was even happier because of the vacations rather than the true meaning of the party.

And what was that meaning? Severus had never had anything related to Christmas at home. His parents didn't know, or didn't care. Certainly they had not cared enough to explain anything about it to him, and so it had remained just an occasion. Later, as he grew more and more averse to noise and laughter it had become a painful occasion, one that he'd rather skip or spend sleeping. But every year he forced himself to slip in some fine robes and go down to have lunch with Dumbledore, the other teachers and whatever students that happened to spend the occasion at the school.

However close he and Lucius had become over their many years together, the Golden Boy always spent his Christmas at home. And even when the Malfoy Manor had been passed on to him, Lucius had never invited Severus in for Christmas. Somehow he knew of the ritual of loneliness and respected it.

And now not only a part but almost all of Severus was overcome by the desire to simply lie on that bed all day long and on the days that followed, staring into Lucius' face without having to hide the love that stubbornly insisted to show in every feature of his own.

-*-

Draco did not have a good night's sleep.

Betrayed... miserably betrayed...

These words echoed on his mind again and again, mocking him, torturing him. Betrayed by the two he had actually brought himself to trust.

People often said that Slytherins and Death Eaters didn't trust anyone. It was the truth for most cases, because in those families the structure wasn't... well, familiar. Draco had had a family; he had always had his father. He had trusted Lucius since as long as he could remember.

Snape felt like family too.

And now not only both had been taken away from him simultaneously, but one by the other. They had each other now, and Draco had no one. He felt terribly small and alone.

Why wasn't he able to feel happy for his father? Lucius had been lying with his face in dungbomb dirt and yet he had delivered Draco his most stunning smile. He had been happy for his son.

Why can't I do the same?

Why couldn't he bring himself to find joy in his father's union, one that Draco knew he needed so badly? Somewhere in the depths of his mind was the answer. Draco allowed it to come to surface, trespassing his self-confidence barriers.

It happens because I'm bloody jealous and afraid that I'll lose him.

Were the situation any different from the one he was going through, Draco would have gotten back at the responsible for his pain. But inside his heart the young Malfoy knew that he couldn't move a finger to hurt either of them.

His first and natural choice would have been to act out against Snape, for he was the one to blame.

The one that is easy to blame.

Draco knew better; he had seen his father start the flirting. But he couldn't get back at his father. He loved Lucius far too much to dream of doing anything to hurt him willingly.

Can always break them apart.

Draco was absolutely sure that if his father ever had to choose between keeping his company or Severus', the Potions Master wouldn't stand a chance. He was completely aware of how easy it would be to break the couple apart, to have his father back to himself. His heart ached with the certainty of his control over Lucius.

Love hurts, and even more when it works both ways.

It hurt to know that his father would sacrifice his other great love at one word of Draco's. It hurt to have that power and be unable to use it.

Would never be able to stand seeing Father suffer...

Draco knew that the bond Lucius shared with Snape was older than himself, and one of the few things that brought some actual peace and pleasure to his father. He knew that he couldn't take that away from Lucius without having him fall apart, crumbling from the inside out, struggling not to show it so that Draco wouldn't feel guilty. But the youth just knew.

Realisation overcame Draco on that very moment. How did it come about that he was brainstorming ways of gaining Lucius back from his betrayal, and that all of his ideas were based on the love that his father felt for him?

Draco had always been able to sense his father's love for him, and now that his heart ached that was where he turned to, the one thought that brought him comfort.

It has always been the one constant in my life.

But now he'd have to do without it. Draco ran a hand over his messy silvery blond hair. That union between his father and Severus had been delayed far too long. There had been the necessity to continue the Malfoy bloodline, Narcissa and then Draco. And first and last of all, Lucius' pride. Now that his father had finally let go of it and grabbed his opportunity of being truly happy, Draco wouldn't be the one to stand in the way. Not now that he was old enough to understand, now that he was old enough to stand for himself and stop depending on Lucius.

Without realising it, Draco changed from blaming his father for his pain to blaming himself for his father's pain. It took him a second to clear his mind of all the thoughts and statements about Lucius' love for him, and to fill it with dozens of reasons why he was a burden to his father.

Putting his love for Lucius before his love for himself, Draco was quick to make a choice. He'd leave his father alone, and also Snape. He'd stop pestering them. He'd have to find... other matters to dedicate himself to.

He brushed his fingers against the stone hanging from his necklace. It seemed dull. Draco told himself that it was just him, and paid it no further attention.

-*-

Voldemort could hardly keep himself from clapping his hands in joy. In few time he'd have the Uylessea stone with Lucius Malfoy's essence.

It had been an easy task to convince Narcissa to take it, telling her that it was for the best, that it would bring her closer to Lucius. Not so easy, though, to convince her to come back to see him afterwards. It had been accomplished with a promise.

What was it that I promised her?

He could hardly remember. But it didn't matter.

Soon after I have the stone in my possession, she will not remember anything about our meeting either.

-*-

Severus poked his head out of Lucius' room and looked both sides to the hallway, to see if there was anyone coming. His gaze was returned only by the paintings, and so he stepped out. All freshened up and with his hair smelling nicely like Lucius' - he'd borrowed the blond's shampoo - Severus made his way inside the Manor. He was so happy that, were it not for the long years of scowling, he'd have hummed a tune as he went to Draco's room.

Getting to the right door, he knocked three times, curtly, and waited for the answer.

In a few instants the heavy mahogany door was opened, and Snape's eyes captured the rare vision of Draco with his hair messy and cheeks reddened (well, redder than the usual, which meant a light pink) from sleeping. He granted his pupil a smile.

"Good morning, Draco."

"Good morning, Professor."

Draco yawned, and for one instant Snape had the impression that he had aged back to five. He shook the feeling when the young Malfoy placed grey piercing eyes on him.

"Happy Christmas."

"Come in."

Draco took a step back, allowing the Potions Master into his room. Severus closed the door behind himself and tucked a few locks of black hair behind his ear before starting to speak again.

"Here. I've got a present for you." He extended the fist-sized package to Draco and kept talking. "It occurred to me that you needed one of these in the night of the Halloween Ball."

Draco pulled the small silver lace to give way for his slender fingers to open the black box. Inside it, there was a silver bracelet. Draco lifted his eyes until his gaze met the professor's.

"It is for you to hide the Mark. That is not something you want to show in public, Draco, and you must be careful."

"Thank you, Professor."

Draco managed a weak smile, that was soon destroyed when he saw the familiar figure of his father stepping inside the room. Lucius rested a hand on Snape's shoulder and smiled to his son.

"Good morning, Draco."

"Good morning, Father. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, son."

Draco looked at the pair, examining them carefully.

They just look... happy.

Happy was not a word that could be used to describe Severus often, and seldom times had the youth thought of it referring to his father.

His resolution grew stronger and he delivered both a stunning veela smile. He'd leave them be.

-*-

Narcissa's slender fingers clutched Uylessea stone with the dragon wrapped around it that hung from her neck. Even deep in her sleep, she didn't let go of it.

The sensations caused by first putting it on had been... she couldn't find words to fully describe them. Happiness had finally been accomplished, although somewhat partially. But she had Lucius with her, and that was what mattered. That was all that mattered...

It seemed to be early morning when she woke up. Looking to the side, she saw a transparent ball on the pillow by her side. A Remembrall. She lazily stretched out an arm to pick it up, and squeezed it. The smoke turned red, and her mind was blank. What was she supposed not to forget?

Did it really matter that much? She had the stone now, she had successfully taken it from Draco's unworthy neck.

Ah, yes.

That was it. She had still to eliminate her rivals in order to achieve her main goal, which was having her Lucius all to herself. The first step in the process of Draco's elimination had just been taken. Cissa 1, Brooding Bat and Silver Dragon 0. She smiled to herself.

But why had she activated that Remembrall? She'd never forget her plans... Suddenly she jerked up to a seating position, as her eyes scanned the room for a clock.

Damn. 8:30.

She had scheduled a meeting with the Dark Lord for nine o'clock. And she knew much better than to make him wait....

Hurriedly, Narcissa rose from the bed and entered her closet. She picked the first matching robes and shoes she could find and put them on quickly. Her hand found a hairbrush and she stood nervously in front of the mirror, combing the mass of blond hair into something seemingly neat.

She didn't really want to go; Voldemort gave her chills. But he had helped her, and would not appreciate it if she didn't keep her part of the deal, which consisted on her landing him the stone so that he could examine it. He had promised to help her in tearing her husband and son apart... if he'd get to keep Draco. Narcissa didn't really mind that, in fact she even liked it. She'd be free of the spoiled brat for ever!

She searched for silver earrings to go with the necklace, put them on and proceeded to the make-up session. Between attempts of giving her high, pale cheekbones some colour and putting on some eye liner she mentally crossed Draco's name from her list of enemies. The Dark Lord was sure to take good care of him, and against Voldemort Lucius would not dare rebelling. That left her the trouble of eliminating Severus Snape.

Her blood boiled as the familiar scowling face invaded her thoughts. She had seen him on the previous night, and it was not a pleasant situation. It was actually a rather humiliating one, to be seated at the same table where your husband is blatantly flirting with another man. Embarrassing, to say the very least. Snape's end would have to be something slow and painful. Grabbing hold of her purse and striding downstairs to the drawing room, Narcissa contemplated the possibility of telling Voldemort about her husband and Snape and maybe get some help from the Dark Lord with that matter as well. She ended up deciding against it; she wanted it to be a personal victory. She wanted to smile as her rival fell down and wanted to know that she was the one responsible for it.

She stopped for a second to catch her breath, and closed her eyes.

Be calm, Cissa, be very calm. And above all be careful.

She clutched the Uylessea stone and Disapparated.

-*-

Lucius left for work right after the Christmas lunch. Severus had had to leave too, as he was expected at Hogwarts. In Draco's mind, bitterness twisted facts until all he could see was that his father had left *because* Severus had done so, paying no attention whatsoever to his son's need of him being there.

Draco breathed in as soon as they were both gone. He had an afternoon of studies ahead... Hell. He did not want to study. He needed to occupy his mind, to take it off of the events, to block the pain.

Physical activities had always helped him relax.

He'd have to find other matters to dedicate himself to.

Before he could regret his decision, Draco Disapparated to Voldemort's Headquarters.

Voldemort didn't seem particularly surprised to see him there. Although it was not common for Death Eaters to show up without being summoned, Draco knew that he was granted a special kind of indulgence, if only because Voldemort fancied him.

Instead of being reprimanded, Draco was greeted with demonstrations of delight at his presence and found himself delighting in all the attention he was getting. He now realised how much he needed it, how much he wanted to try hard to please someone and have that person smile to him. If his father didn't want to play that part anymore, Voldemort would have to do. Draco received a task and left, happy to have something to distract his mind.

-*-

Lord Voldemort sighed and ran his tongue over his lips as soon as Draco Malfoy was out of sight. That day had been full of unexpected surprises, and Draco showing up had been just an excellent opportunity to do a test.

He waved a hand to undo a previously executed invisibility charm, and lowered his eyes to stare into the moving green mists of the Uylessea stone hanging from his neck.

It hadn't been difficult to take it from Narcissa. She had showed up a bit late for their appointment, and seemed somewhat reluctant in handing him the stone. The defiance had vanished instantly as he got up from his seat, towering impressively over her, his dark vests swirling around him, his red eyes narrowing and his voice deep and angry.

Narcissa was such a spineless creature; he could now see why Lucius despised her. She had handed him the stone, then he had performed a memory charm on her and sent her back to her house. He did not need her any longer now that he had the stone.

The stone with Lucius Malfoy's essence, that had been prepared to be given to the one Lucius loved the most. Such a priceless item, and in Voldemort's possession it was also a dangerous one. He loved Lucius as much as anyone else did, but that love did not keep him from wanting to tame the other man's soul and break it. If anything, it increased that desire.

Putting on the necklace had been an amazing experience. To feel the loved one in his veins, in his very soul, to feel his breath surrounding him, that shiny presence. Voldemort had spent the first minutes in awe, surrendering to the sensations that intoxicated his senses. Surrendering to Lucius Malfoy, taking him in, welcoming him in. Learning about him.

Voldemort knew a good deal about Uylessea stones. He knew how they worked: that their power wasn't restricted to containing one's essence; that it went far deeper. That the small part of the person trapped inside the stone would react exactly like the actual person upon every situation. It was the end of Lucius' irritating unreadable facade, the end of not knowing what he was thinking, the end of guessing his beloved's feelings.

The Dark Lord couldn't be more happy when Draco was taken to his presence. In addition to his liking of Draco, the stone close to his chest sent chills and love waves all over him at the simple sight of the boy, nearly overwhelming his senses. He had smiled to Draco and been polite and gentle, all the time marvelling at how the youth's simple presence affected the stone and therefore, Lucius. Only then he seemed to grasp the importance of his son to Lucius Malfoy, and his own fondness of Draco only increased at that. The fact that the boy was evidently enjoying it as well as responding only made matters easier.

When Draco went away, Voldemort was left with a small smile on his lips.

-*-

Severus left for Hogwarts right after lunch. Not that he didn't enjoy Lucius' company, but he couldn't be away from the school for so long.

He Apparated outside Hogwarts' grounds, and pulled his scarf up in order to cover the tip of his nose and prevent it from becoming blue as he slowly started to make his way towards the stony castle.

Wind caused snowflakes to smash against Severus' face, but the scarf did a good job of covering most of it. It also hid from view a smile that insisted on creeping up the corners of his mouth, and that would be considered extremely un-Severus-like and arouse the suspicion of many. He didn't want to be asked questions. He didn't want to lie about what had just happened, about what he and Lucius now had; he wanted to scream it out loud and show off the gorgeous creature that was now his.

Pulling the scarf higher as the wind got colder, Severus' fingers brushed against his nose. He had never been particularly fond of his nose; actually he didn't like it at all. But he had liked it very much when Lucius had kissed every inch of it on the previous night, whispering wicked and obscene words that showed Severus how much he liked the raven-haired wizard's body, all of it, no exceptions.

Lucius' playful winking face at lunch table floated before Severus' eyes as he pushed the heavy doors open and entered Hogwarts, now directing his steps to the Slytherin domain. He wanted to light up a cozy fire in his bedroom and contemplate the state of things happily.

He was most unfortunate to cross paths with Albus Dumbledore, who was on his way to his own office.

"Severus."

The Headmaster nodded slightly by means of greeting.

"Albus."

Snape returned the gesture and would proceed his way. But there was no getting away with Dumbledore.

"So you're back from... where was it that you went?"

Severus turned around, with his stoic mask in place. His dark eyes met Dumbledore's blue ones, in which there was a twinkle.

Albus Dumbledore, you know perfectly well where I have been. You have a terribly good memory for someone of your age.

He tried not to show anything on his voice as he spoke.

"I was at Malfoy Manor."

"Paying young Draco a visit?"

"Yes, sir."

No point in saying anything else, since Albus himself had created a valid excuse. But with the Headmaster, it was the unsaid that made all the difference. Soon Snape found himself under Dumbledore's piercing glare. He held his calm facade, and even tried a politely bored look.

For some instants, the two men held each other's gaze. Until Dumbledore smiled.

"Very well, Severus."

Snape nodded curtly and turned around to leave. He strode until he was in the dungeons, when he could slow his pace. There, no-one would interrupt his musings. He made his way to his office, greeting some students in the Common Hall when he passed by it.

As he closed the door, he recalled the face of his favourite student. Draco. The boy had a remarkable resemblance to his father. Snape caught himself smiling again.

Lucius...

-*-

Lucius whistled happily as he loosened his tie, getting ready to leave work. It was late at night and therefore everybody was gone; otherwise he'd never have loosened his dark green tie, let alone whistle. It would not be considered proper for a Malfoy, and Lucius was particularly famous for being formal although charismatic.

On that exact moment, he couldn't care less about being formal. He wanted not only to whistle but to go to a tattoo shop in Knockturn Alley and have 'Severus Snape loooves this' tattooed right... there.

It's late and I've got my cloak.

The thought left his mind as quickly as it had been formed. Tattoos were not a good idea, and neither were they needed. Between him and Severus, very little was needed. Not to mention that Lucius liked to take things slowly, savouring them as he would savour a good wine.

I better get home, it's too late and I'm thinking far too many mushy thoughts. Sev, Sev.. see what dreadful effect you have on me?

Lucius grabbed his cloak and case, and directed his desk one last surveying glance to make sure he hadn't forgotten about anything. From the furthest corner, a picture of five-year-old Draco waved happily at him. Lucius smiled at the sight of his son. He had been so happy to see Draco that Christmas... He always found great pleasure when his son came home for holidays, but that year he had been feeling specially protective towards Draco and therefore had wanted him closer. For Lucius it was relieving to just have his boy at home, safe, under his wings.

At Hogwarts, he's got Severus.

Lucius' thoughts wandered back to his brooding lover.

-*-

AN: Two weeks since Christmas. It's implied on the text, but I thought I could give y'all a rest from reading things in-between the lines of what I write.

Draco hugged his knees as he leaned against the head of his four-poster bed. Curling up was a good way to make one feel warmer, and Slytherin dormitories were always cold. But right now Draco was only vaguely aware of it. He was so tired...

Two weeks straight of serving the Dark Lord nearly every night can have that effect.

He had been volunteering for Death Eater assignments. They kept him busy, kept his mind off of his confused feelings towards his father and the new lover. And he was growing increasingly attached to Voldemort as well, and finding to his joy that the feeling was reciprocated.

One night Draco caught himself wondering whether his father would approve his behaviour.

Lately he had avoided thinking about his father at all costs, but that night it seemed to be an impossible task. It was Lucius' birthday, January 8th.

When had thinking about his father had become such a painful, unwanted thing? Draco wished he had someone he could talk to about it. He had never, however, had many close friends, and recently two important names had been cut from his list of trustworthy people.

Not important names. The ONLY names.

In spite of everything, Draco missed Snape's silent companionship. The brooding Potions Master would not always have comforting words, but his advice was sure to be wise and his mere presence, soothing. And although the distance was self-imposed, Draco missed the solid rock that was Severus Snape. He missed the peace, instead of the adrenaline of the Death Eater assignments. Oh, he liked those all right, but just as a distraction. He didn't want to do it for the rest of his life... but then again, what did he have left to do?

It struck Draco that his behaviour was quite childish: do nasty things to draw attention from his parents. But he dismissed the thought quickly. It was not what he was doing. His grades were dropping because he had been dedicating himself to greater matters, to serving his Lord.

He came to the bitter conclusion that Lucius hadn't even noticed, that Snape monopolised his father's attention enough.

No matter what I do, Father will not notice. Snape won't allow him to...

Draco had grown apart from Severus since Christmas. He avoided speaking to the Head of the House at all costs, and considering that Malfoys were notoriously slippery he was doing a wonderful job of that. But he didn't know if he should be happy or sad that Severus was returning the favour.

Even with my atrocious grades, Snape hasn't come to give me a speech.

Normally Severus would do so whenever Draco screwed up, or he'd tell Lucius if he thought that the matter was serious.

It is goddamn serious, but will any of the lovebirds ever see it? Not if I don't cry it out loud!

In a moment of loneliness and faced with the impossibility of reaching his father, Draco found out whom he would always turn to. He left his bed, grabbed robes and made his way to Severus' office.

He found it empty, as well as Snape's room. There was no sign of him, no indication of his whereabouts. Which just made it clearer to Draco. Narrowing his eyes in anger, the blond youth looked at the fireplace. Severus Snape's fireplace was the only one in Hogwarts to allow its user to Floo without having difficulties with the wards. This special feature was owed to Severus' job as a spy on Voldemort, because he could be summoned at any time. Draco himself had made use of it countless times that same week, but now he wished it were blocked, he wished it so that the little voice in his head wouldn't be right.

The dust and warmth still oozing from it were all the evidence he needed to rush back to his room with tears welling up in his eyes, out of pure frustration and deception.

Draco searched for some appropriate Death Eater attires. Hell, any black clothes would do. He just needed to go away, to get hold of his wand, to fucking cause someone unbearable pain.

Like the one that's piercing my chest. Love fucking hurts, and it's even worse now that it doesn't work both ways anymore.

His eyes were glowing cruelly as he grabbed some Floo powder and threw it at Severus' fireplace, growling.

"Malfoy Manor."

He entered the fireplace, still with the same bitter, maddening thought racing through his head.

He's with Father...

-*-

Lucius arrived home early on the evening of his birthday, feeling a little frustrated.

No one worthy seems to have remembered.

Narcissa usually made a big fuss about it, but since Christmas she had been acting strange. She entered a room and could not remember what she was doing there, she forgot small things all the time, and the mere mention of Draco was enough to send her into a babbling frenzy. Whilst not exactly disappointed at the perspective of a calm night with no 'special candlelit dinner' and Narcissa's interminable babbling and drooling, Lucius did register the odd occurrence of her not remembering to pay it proper attention when he was in the mood to think about his wife.

Draco hasn't showed signs of remembering it either.

Lucius knew better than to think that his son had forgotten about his birthday. Draco always owled him a long, delicious letter and a present of some sort. I didn't matter much WHAT the present was; the though of Draco choosing it carefully and lovingly - he always did - to his father was sure to cause Lucius to treasure garbage, if that was what Draco would send him.

On the present day, however, no letter, let alone present. Lucius didn't try to tell himself that Draco had been busy.

Although I know it's true.

He had met Draco twice that same week, both times in Voldemort's domain, where they couldn't really talk.

Everyone knows how close I am to my son, nobody would dare to say a word if I were to hug him in Voldemort's living room.

It was Draco who didn't allow him to get closer; Lucius had yet to figure out why.

Probably for the same reason he hasn't owled me.

Lucius was not blind, and he knew that his son was resentful of his union with Severus. But he also knew that his son was a 16-year-old, and that soon the anger would go away. He trusted so, because he knew that Draco loved him every bit as much as he loved the boy. This was why he wasn't really worried about his and Draco's unspoken quarrel: he didn't fear that his son would turn on him. Draco was his, he had always been and would be forever. He was sure to come back, given some time to sulk properly.

Holding a grunge for indefinite time was a feature of Draco's personality, as was his - rather strong - temper. Lucius himself didn't display any of these characteristics, so he attributed his son owning them to Narcissa.

Most likely he got both traits from Severus.

Ah, Severus Snape. Draco's other father, from whom the youth had also inherited so much. Lucius learned that he quite liked that, because if he could choose anyone to have a son and form a family with, it would definitely have been Severus Snape, his gloomy, sarcastic, bitter but nonetheless passionate lover.

Images of Severus hissing, Severus scowling, Severus bickering and above all Severus naked filled Lucius' mind as he made his way to his room.

Superb program for a birthday night, non? Well, the very act of thinking about Severus can be highly entertaining.

Lucius had spent countless hours musing about Severus Snape, dissecting him, losing himself in the maze of shadow that was his lover. Trying to figure out what made him tick, what did he mean to Lucius and what was he, Lucius, to Severus.

Thus he thought he was hallucinating when he opened his bedroom door to see Severus laying on his bed, comfortably resting against some pillows and reading a book.

Lucius closed the door automatically as he blinked cluelessly, and could do little but stare as the jet-black haired wizard lowered the book to acknowledge his presence in the room.

"What took you so long, Lucifer? Or do you always get home this late?"

The distinct annoyance in Snape's dry comment told Lucius that no, he wasn't hallucinating.

"Greetings to you too, Sev."

As he said that he rolled his eyes mockingly. The corners of the Potions Master's lips curled up in a smile, and Lucius walked up to his desk to drop his case and overcoat there. Keeping his back turned to his friend, Malfoy spoke.

"To what do I owe this,"

much unexpected but immeasurably pleasant,

"visit?"

He finally turned around, and his snide smile matched his lover's

"Thought I'd stop by and drop your birthday present."

"Hmmm. A present."

Lucius' best lazy drawl left his mouth as he made his way to the bedside. Severus stretched his legs out, seeming really comfortable. Lucius loved him all the more for that - that carefully planned but seemingly casual posture, all the familiarity, the sense of closeness and intimacy it brought.

"You got me one for Christmas, remember?"

Lucius smiled a feral smile.

"I am rather fond of this sort of present."

He leaned forward, putting one hand on the bed and reaching for Severus' face with the other, pressing his lips against his lover's equally pale ones. His fingers brushed against Severus' chin, sliding down his collarbone to the buttons on the dark clothing. But a skilled hand caught hold of his own, and Snape was the one to break the kiss.

"Tsk, tsk, Lucifer. The ever-present Malfoy trend of reading in your lines what you want them to say." He continued in a whisper. "I've brought you these."

As Lucius straightened himself into a standing position, Severus let his body fall backwards against the pillows, sneaking a hand between them to bring to view a plastic bag full of...

"Cherries?"

Lucius arched one eyebrow as he took the bag Severus handed him. He half-stared at it, half-looked at Snape who was searching something else among the pillows.

"And we also have this."

Lucius was presented with a bottle of cherry liquor, and smiled. He would very much love to have another - ahem - restless, alcoholic night with Severus. He held the two presents as he watched Severus get up and catch where he'd left off, starting to unbutton his vests. When all the front part of his body was visible and his vests held great similarity to a robe, Snape proceeded to work on Lucius' clothing. The latter could just watch in amusement.

"Snicker again and I'm not pampering you anymore, Malfoy," Severus let out in a sly tone, only to look up with playful smile and eyes filled with desire that matched Lucius' own. As if they had one mind, both males leaned forward to press their lips against each other's, not breaking the kiss as Severus' hands worked on Lucius' zipper.

Snape's hot and wet breath tickled Lucius' ear as whispered.

"I trust you to have some fire, Lucifer."

He lowered Lucius' pants, hands on the butt and hips.

"And myself to be sweet enough so that we won't need any sugar."

Lucius stepped off of his pants and placed the bottle and the bag on the nightstand as he chuckled.

"Flambée Severus Snape?"

He turned around to face Severus, who had slid off his vests to shine beautifully naked before his beloved. The dark haired wizard spread both palms on Lucius' chest and pushed the blond onto the bed, smiling ferally afterwards.

"Sound worthy of a Malfoy birthday menu?"

"Sev, you never cease to amaze me."

AN: I actually wrote the NC-17 part for this chapter, containing Lucius, Severus, the

bag of cherries and the liquor. It's been cut out for rating reasons, but if you want it just e-mail me at [email protected] and I'll send it to you.

When Severus slid himself out of him, Lucius immediately turned on his side and embraced the other man, clinging to him, resting his head on the bare, pale chest.

Severus' hand came to strike his hair tenderly, and none of them said a word as they laid together, still breathing hard, still smelling of sex, forever in love.

-*-

It's not enough, it's never enough, no matter how hard I try.

Draco Disapparated from the Manor to a small village near Malfoy domains. It was a Muggle village, full of innocent, sleeping, defenceless Muggles.

Just what Draco needed to work out his anger and frustration.

He happened to show up next to a small cottage of some sort. Not that it mattered... much.

The lock gave away easily to a first-year charm and Draco stepped inside. He didn't pay much attention to his surroundings, just enough to see a picture on top of the fireplace. What caught his eye wasn't that the picture wasn't moving - in fact, it brought forward the evident and everlasting love of the smiling hugging couple portrayed. Draco's hold on his wand tightened, and the glass of the picture crashed with the mix of wandless magic and anger.

"Lumos," he whispered as he pushed open what he assumed to be the bedroom door.

His gaze met a couple asleep, covered with the white mattress, the arm of the husband protectively over the woman's delicate body.

It only increased Draco's rage.

He shouted a spell and fired green, exploding balls to the ceiling.

The two people woke up, and the wife clung to the man, terror written all over her face.

"What the are you doing? Get out of my house, now!" The man shouted, sounding indignant.

"Shut the hell up! Rope bind!"

Draco pointed his wand, and conjured rope and a gag. The power of the spell also happened to knock the man to the floor, but the youth didn't mind.

"Ben!" The wife cried out, seemingly on the verge of tears.

He didn't want her desperate sobbing just yet. Right now, he needed anger.

"What are you?" She shouted, evidently terrified.

"That's a nice question, Ashley." Draco kept his voice silky as he approached. How did he know her name? There's much one can tell by the names on top of wedding pictures.

"What do you think I am?"

"A bastard that breaks into people's houses and hurts people!"

Not close enough. I'm a bastard yes, a filthy bastard, an egotist bastard who can't feel happy for his Father...

"I'm a bastard, you got that right."

"A sadistic one at that!"

"Very well. What else am I?"

Draco increased the power of the Lumos spell, making his wand's light glow brighter, allowing the Muggle a better view of his face.

"You're a bloody freak!"

A freak who desires the own father, a sick freak that wants to be fucked by a parent, a sad miserable sick bastard.

"You say that because I can do things like... this?"

Draco waved a hand and the man's body was lifted four feet in the air. Never breaking eye contact, the youth executed another careless wave and Ben's heavily moustached face collided with the wood wall.

"Freak! Stop it!" She squealed.

But Draco was too entertained to stop. He was only beginning to play.

"What would you say, Ashley, if I told you that I've already broken into many other houses, hurt many other people, raped them... if I told you that the only one I really want to shag won't give a damn about it, because he's my dad?"

What would you say, what would people say?

"I'd say you're a sorry, sick gay person."

Striding too quickly for the woman to be able to move a muscle, Draco caught hold of the her hair and pressed her against the wall, hard.

"What did you just say?"

"Let go of me!"

She struggled helplessly, grabbing hold of his sleeves, tugging on them, her grip tight.

"So you wouldn't want me either?"

"Fuck no!"

Draco pulled the woman's head, just to push it back against the wall again with doubled strength. Upon this her struggling increased, and she was now ripping his shirt, yelling in pain.

He found the resulting scream to be rewarding, and the action itself to ease some of his pain. So he did it repeated times, each time stronger, drawing blood that spilled and stained his clothes, the small red dots all over his face. But his lips held a mischievous grin.

"Stop it!"

No effect. He was nearly succeeding in blocking out the world when her shaking voice dragged him back to it.

"What do you want?!"

What did he want? To ease his pain? It went deeper than that. He wanted to have his father back, that was what he wanted more than anything in the world.

'This necklace is for you to know that I'm with you all the time', he said.

After the Christmas incident, even the Uylessea stone had apparently lost its power and became dull.

An undefined blur would currently define Draco's feelings, and also his life. Now that woman had asked what he wanted. The young Malfoy smiled.

"I want pain. I want to hear you scream, I want to drink your blood, to bathe in your tears, to laugh at your despair. It is what I seek."

While answering he had held the woman's head at eye-level, and now that he let go of it. Ashley's body hit the floor as she fell seated in an awkward position. It was time to go for the lad.

Draco, guided by the muffled indignant screams, did not have much trouble in finding Ben. He levitated him until he was close, and removed his gag.

"What have you done to her, you asshole?"

He was oozing hatred.

Good. Hate me, Muggle. Notice me. At least I know YOU will.

"Not much. Just banged her head on the wall a few times. Trust me, my dear, it's way better than what is awaiting you..."

For the male, Draco had reserved magic tortures. The Cruciatus curse was the first, swiftly followed by nearly all the most painful ones he could recall. As the man writhed in the floor before him, Draco savoured his pain. His empath abilities made it possible for him to feel the Muggle's anguish, and it matched Draco's own. He allowed himself to hit the limp body countless times, feeling the hurt and the anger mix up with his own until everything was a blur.

Draco then learned that he had no idea if the person he was hurting was still alive, and that he was crying, his eyes red from the tears streaming down from it. He seldom cried, but that night it would be ok. He was hurt and aching...

And someone was to pay for it.

He thought darkly as he delivered yet another magic blow at his victim.

The door banging caught his attention, retrieving him from his small thoughts world. He couldn't have her running away.

Draco chased after her through the living room and the kitchen until the back garden.

There he stopped to watch her fearful eyes as she pressed herself against the back wall like a cornered animal. He stepped slowly towards her, never minding the falling snowflakes brushing against his bare skin, on the places where she had desperately ripped his clothing. His footsteps made no sound and neither did the snow falling; the only sound in the night was her quickened breath. A cruel, serpentine smile crossed his lips as she came within arm reach.

"Don't touch me!" she snarled, her voice low due to her evident terror.

"Shall I not?" He ran delicate fingers through the length of her hair. "There are few who don't want me to."

His voice was soft, for he was enjoying this. He was savouring her fear, his empath abilities making it all the more intense, all the more entangled with his own pain until he could fool himself into thinking that all the suffering was hers, that he was as happy as he had once been, that he had no reason to ache.

"You horrid child..." she hissed through clenched teeth, "no wonder your father hates you."

Ouch.

She had just pressed the one fragile spot in the diamond-solid structure that was Draco Lucifer Malfoy. Now he was more than sure to crumble, and the consequences wouldn't be all too pleasing.

He lowered his eyebrows, the smile left his lips, the hand quit its caresses.

"Do not talk about my Father, Muggle."

She then laughed. A crazed laughter, that was certain, but laughter nonetheless. And all of a sudden Draco felt small, ever so small, and heard thousands of voices laughing at him upon learning his secret.

Because they know how ridiculous of me it is to be in love with Father...

They knew it, and they threw that on his face. Voldemort would laugh, Severus Snape would chuckle. His Mother would laugh hysterically at him, knowing that he had imitated her fatal mistake. Potter, Granger, Weasley, they were all sure to laugh their heads off. Even the Muggle woman was laughing, everybody would laugh once they knew.

But what do they know?

They didn't. Only the woman.

Silence her.

Silence her, so she'd tell no one. Silence her so that his secret, that dreadful and shameful secret would never be told. Silence her so that she'd stop that bloody maddening laughter...

"Stop," he told her.

She didn't obey; instead she leaned forward and embraced him, placing her mouth near his ear.

"Stop!"

There was urgency on his voice now, and a bit of the despair started to show as well. Her confusing feelings, which he was able to feel mixed to his own, did not help matters. Thoughts and emotions spun crazily in his head, but Draco was able to sort one out:

Silence her.

From thought to action it took little: Draco put both hands around the woman's neck. Her laughter faded for some seconds, only to echo again on his ears, louder than ever. He tightened his grip, not feeling her hands on his arms, her fingernails digging into his flesh to draw blood. He saw only her laughing face, heard only her mocking laughter, felt only his own anguish. And so his grip tightened.

He couldn't tell how long he stood like that, until the snow bashing against his face made him recover some awareness of his surroundings. Only then he realised that her body was limp. He loosened his grip on her neck.

No sound filled the air.

He released her and turned away to seek shelter, not looking back as her body fell to the snowy ground.

All he cared about was the silence.

He Disapparated as close as he could to Hogwarts' grounds, from where he made his way to the castle and, once inside, to the Slytherin domain and his room. He laid down on the bed.

Silence.

But once having drifted to sleep, he found that the Muggle's laughter rang loud and clear in his nightmares, serving as proper soundtrack as he watched Snape's figure be kissed by his father, again and again, until he woke up covered in sweat.

And the damn laughter still echoed in his ears...

-*-

Lucius went to work feeling a lot less tense than on the night before, and infinitely happier. Spending the night with Severus had lightened up his mood considerably, even if his lover had had to leave before dawn.

Sev got me a nice birthday present.

Lucius was then struck by the fact that his son hadn't bothered to owl him. If his feelings had shown on his face as he settled down on his office, he would have both eyebrows arched and his lips parted. He was feeling terribly sad at Draco's display of resentfulness.

Of course he knew that it would happen. Taking Sev as a lover wouldn't come without a bad consequence - no good thing did. He had just hoped that that consequence wouldn't be upsetting his son.

Lucius hated it with his very heart; it made him suffer. He did know, however, that it was a momentary thing that would go away soon. Draco was young and had always been the centre of attentions.

Admit it, you've spoiled him.

Well, Lucius couldn't deny that he had. Although educated to stand pain and stand for himself, Draco had been spoiled on all things concerning his father. Lucius had always told him that, if he had a serious problem, he could call on him and he'd drop whatever it was that he would be doing to come down and be with his son. At the same time, Draco had been taught not to interrupt his father's business for foolish or minor reasons, because it would mean disrespecting his father. And Lucius would not have that. He wouldn't have his son disrespecting him, but neither would he have his son away from him. They could and would find equilibrium. Lucius could always make up for most time spent working... and he soon learned that, the rarer their quality time together, the more they'd both come to treasure it.

It should have increased with Draco's initiation.

It really should. Lucius saw his son more often now, and the vision of Draco, even if dressed up on those vampiric black outfits, was sure to make his heart beat faster. But they seldom talked within Voldemort's domain.

The Dark Lord knew of everything that happened within those walls, and Lucius wasn't blind and could see the increasing interest that his Master had been developing in his son. He watched that with twisted emotions. One of them was a certain kind of relief, for he knew that the greater the liking Lord Voldemort had for Draco, there would be less danger of him being harassed by any living creature, wizard or witch, dark or light. All feared Voldemort and did not dare touch what he chose as his. The other emotion piercing through his chest was the fear that his Master would somehow hurt Draco. The adult Malfoy was perfectly aware of Voldemort's love for pain, and he feared that the white skinned, red-eyed wizard would hurt his Draco, either for the sake of it or to somehow reach him, Lucius. And yet another ingredient on the bubbling cauldron of his anxious heart was the disconcerting feeling that he got whenever he caught his son's adoring eyes upon Voldemort.

Lucius wasn't exactly jealous, because he knew far better than to think that Draco would be charmed by Voldemort's manners and stop following his Father's advice, which consisted of being careful.

For that reason as well some others, Lucius trusted his son not to let him down. He had given Draco the stone, for the boy to know that he'd always be with him, no mattered what. To show the young Malfoy just how much he loved him. And he knew that love to be reciprocated, and that was why Lucius didn't fear any serious breach with his son. He knew Draco far better than that.

Lucius knew that, as long as his love and Draco's were reciprocated, equal and above all else one, their bond could not be broken.

-*-

AN: end of January. Time really flows by in my fics, doesn't it? *winks*

Pansy entered Draco's dormitory. She was more than a little worried about him; Draco had been acting...

Strange.

He'd apparently dropped Quidditch practice.

But not like he can't still wipe the floor with Hufflepuff!

He had been drifting off in classes and out of them, closing himself more and more into his small world, allowing fewer people in. He who had been the solo star of the Slytherin Common Room now shut himself away on his dorm or wandered alone through the halls. He didn't let even Crabbe or Goyle follow him anymore.

On one hand Pansy was actually fond of that, for she didn't really like the two morons. But on the other hand she worried about him, lots. Because Crabbe and Goyle would watch Draco's back, and he had been getting into a particularly large amount of trouble during the last month.

That terrible fight with Potter...

Not like Draco couldn't deal with the boy easily enough.

Draco can beat Death Eaters and Aurors, let alone these puny students.

But the thing was, Draco couldn't show the school how much he knew about the Dark Arts. It'd be dangerous. And each time he was setting more and more people against himself, and so Pansy worried immensely that they'd find a way to catch him by surprise and give him proper retaliation for his actions.

Pansy, although concerned about all those things, was more directly affected by Draco's shutting off of the world, because it included her. The only occasion she saw him lighten up a little were Death Eater meetings.

His eyes shine when he sets foot in Voldemort's Manor.

Maybe it was because he got to see his father... But whatever the reason was, it was a fact that Draco had been going to the Dark Lord's more often than she had ever done or heard of someone doing.

Even as she climbed the spiral stairs to his dorm she wasn't sure she'd find him there anymore...

It was a lucky night. Pansy found Draco seating on his bed, his back turned to the door, head lowered.

I wonder what's bitten him... he looks so nice in those black silk pijamas!

As she approached, she noticed how he concealed something in the pijama's shirt. Some kind of necklace. Well, she could always get him to remove his clothing, she couldn't help but smile at the thought.

"Hey Draco."

He turned to face her, mask firmly in place, his expression giving nothing away. Like always. But she loved him also for that.

"What do you want?"

Not in the mood for talking, are we?

"Just to see you. It's been some time since we talked, Draco..."

"Hmm."

The ever so uncomfortable pause. Pansy shook it off.

"You weren't leaving, were you?" He shook his head and she continued as she sat on the bed by him. "Because you seem to be going out a lot these days. Really, Draco, it's like, you're dedicating yourself completely to our Lord."

She wondered what could have caused him to snort at her sentence.

"I'd say so."

"Well, it isn't doing much good for your grades, now is it?"

The glare he gave her all but meant 'are you my bloody mother or something?'. She sighed and starred down at her lap helplessly.

"What I mean is... you're tense."

She lifted her chin to face him, and upon his arched eyebrow she reached out and touched his shoulder, pressing it.

"Ouch, Pansy."

"See? Turn around."

He did it; he seemed somewhat reluctant, but he did it nonetheless. She sat behind him, legs sprawled to each side and reached for his shoulders, massaging them, moving her thumbs in small circles to ease his tension.

"I miss you..."

I miss the old you, Draco. The one who'd make fun of Gryffindors but not hex them three times a week, the one who'd lecture and curse the Quidditch team whenever you lost, the one who'd smile and get all girls from third year on bouncing. And I miss it when you would tell me secrets, when we would both lie naked in your bed and you'd say a huge amount of shit and we'd laugh together at it. I miss it when you'd let me reach you, even if it was just once in a very long while... at least there were some times when I believed you cared about something. Now you don't seem to care, not even about yourself.

"I'm right here."

He turned sideways, cupped her face and gave her a long, tantalising kiss. Pansy allowed herself to he held and kissed and bit and made love to, knowing that he needed that. Knowing that Draco needed to somehow go back to his old self, even if it was just for the few climax instants when he called her name.

But when he came she couldn't be more surprised. What he let out was an undefined growl, and tears started to make their way on his face. Not knowing what to do, Pansy held his head close to his chest. She held him as he cried, ever so silently, ever so painfully.

He ended up falling asleep in her arms, with her hand still stroking his hair absently. She knew better than to ask, either on the moment when he had been crying or when he woke up. She would not ask; she was the one who would never ask. If he'd allow her to be there and hold him, she would follow him down to hell if that was where he chose to go.

-*-

Voldemort fingered the Uylessea stone, observing the different and trembling shadows cast to it by the light of the fireplace, taking in the shades of green, marvelling at its beauty. It brought him the greatest of delights: to be able to sneak behind Lucius Malfoy's carefully built and impenetrable Malfoy facade and to see his nude soul and beating heart.

The Death Eater meetings were becoming the hours he longed for, the moments he treasured. His hunger for the sight of Lucius, for the taste of his feelings was approaching an unhealthy level. And whilst he did worry about it, he couldn't help becoming more and more addicted to that creature, more entangled on his web of light and beauty.

Lord Voldemort feasted on the newly achieved maze of Lucius' emotions, exploring it inch by inch. Testing it.

A really big surprise was to find out about the twists Severus Snape causes, both by his own actions and MY actions upon him. I never thought that he'd mean so much to Lucius.

Voldemort wasn't jealous of what his love and the Potions Master had. It was not in his nature to be jealous, but that didn't keep him from being resentful. And when he couldn't win someone by seducing them, he'd capture their attention by hurting them. For that purpose, as well as for the satisfaction of his own longing, Draco was so much better than Snape.

Just put Lucius and his son on the same room and you have stony-hearted Malfoy's heart squeezing. Address the youth if you wish to alarm and reach Malfoy, touch the little fool to set Lucius' heart off in a beating rhythm few athletes would find themselves capable of displaying without breaking a sweat. I wonder what would happen if I were to actually shag the young Malfoy.

The stone made his heart beat faster whenever he thought of Draco.

The fantasy he had had some time ago, the one involving himself shagging Lucius' son with Lucius watching, seemed more and more tempting. He had tried to shake it our of his head. It was not possible. He didn't want to lose Lucius.

But now with that precious little stone it could be done. It would be Lucius and it wouldn't be him at the same time. There would be the thrill of the pain, but not any of the consequences. It would be fake, and that was what kept him from doing it... Lord Voldemort didn't like fooling himself. But he could never, ever afford to lose Lucius. Even IF he were to sleep with Draco, Lucius couldn't know. He could not know until it was the right time, when all of his other defences had been broken and that would be the ultimate blow.

For some time now the Dark Lord had entertained the thought of sleeping with Draco, and weighed its effects and consequences. Each time, he decided that it'd be worth it. Each time he wished more and more that he could have Lucius' son, that small replica of Lucius and the thing that Lucius endeared the most. Although Voldemort himself was starting to warm towards Draco as well.

But I can see now why you love and treasure him, Lucius. He's got your looks and your fire, but he's deliciously corruptible. He responds to all the flattery, he feasts on it. He has a need to please that would make him weak, if he weren't so good at concealing it. Unfortunately for you, beloved, I happen to be wiser than a sixteen-year-old. I can see inside Draco, just like you can. And, just like you, I love him. Differently from you, though, I wouldn't hesitate to hurt him. Pain is beautiful, Lucius, and the aching of the ones you love even more precious. You can hurt thousands, but you can only come to love a handful. Their pain is more exquisite, but infinitely more expensive. And the Dark Lord is willing to pay the price. Does 'any means to reach their ends' sounds familiar to you, Lucius? Will you think of it when you see your son turning on you, will you realise what it was that I did? Even if not, you'll suffer. Of this much I'm sure. And this, Lucius dearest, is what I'm aiming at. Your pain. Your feelings. Reaching you, touching you. As I'm no ordinary mind-game player; my strike will be one alone. No slow and painful psychic war, just one blow. Carefully planned and masterfully executed, on the fragile point of your armor. Where it will cause you to crumble. When you will realise my strength and power, and how futile is your resistance to me. When, in your despair, you will surrender...

How to break Lucius? By Draco. Did he want Draco? Certainly.

Draco had been there that same night, and had been sent away on a solo mission. He was to return soon.

And Voldemort would be waiting, still wearing the wicked smile that was creeping up to his lips as he thought of Draco.

-*-

Draco Disapparated back to Voldemort's Headquarters. He couldn't Apparate directly inside Hogwarts; he needed to freshen up.

Can't allow Snape to see me like this.

It was a reflex thought, since a bitter voice in his heart told him that his Potions Master, as well as his Father, had long stopped caring. Lucius even seemed to have stopped exerting all the pressure on him, seemed to let him more loose.

Seems not to care anymore... Well, there is someone who cares.

He could show up before Voldemort covered in sweat mixed with black ink and blood. He knew that the Dark Lord would only find it attractive. Draco was now fond of pleasing Voldemort, he actually liked it a lot. He could feel his lust as he was praised.

_He responds as if I were licking him. He drools all over me. I don't get the manipulating thing people boast so much about. _

He was finding himself being drawn to the Dark Lord irresistibly, spending a good part of his time musing about the red eyed and white skin, about that seductive smile. Often did Draco choose to centre his thoughts on it and shut off real world. It was by far less painful.

Draco wasn't disappointed. He ran into Voldemort in one of the halls, and was greeted with an appreciative stare.

Ha. Ran into him. He can feel the presence of everyone in his house. He ran right to me.

The Dark Lord stopped to talk to him, lifting an eyebrow in a quite suggestive way. It worked like a salve to Draco's ego.

"Draco."

That sly voice. No Mr. Malfoy, Young Malfoy, just... just Draco. Intimacy that was highly appreciated by the youth.

"Milord."

Draco bent his head by means of bowing, and lifted his chin to stare into Voldemort's red eyes.

"How well did your assignment go?"

"I would say I completed my task, Milord."

"Hmm. So pleasing to have such a capable and yet dedicated someone."

Does he mean what I think he does?

There was only one way to find out.

"All ways to show devotion couldn't possibly express what goes in my heart, Milord."

Draco was beginning to regret having baited Voldemort. Why was the Dark Lord looking so intently at his face, with such an overwhelming yet indistinct feeling in his eyes? His empathic abilities, however, didn't allow him to be fooled: Voldemort was actually amused.

Doesn't change much. My presence is not supposed to be AMUSING of all things. Desirable, magnificent, entertaining, but certainly not-

Draco's train of thought was interrupted by the Dark Lord's hand, which was lifted until it was at the youth's eye-level. Then a whitish finger wiped away something on Draco's cheek.

A drop of a victim's blood.

The gesture brought to Draco memories of a duelling practice with his father, when Lucius had executed the exact same move. A chill travelled down Draco's spine, but before he had the time to analyse that he became aware of Voldemort's hand cupping his cheek.

Between that and the feel of his mouth upon Draco's there weren't but mere fractions of second. There was a flash of the red eyes and then everything was warmth, love and lust. Sensations Draco didn't know he was craving so badly until he had a taste of them.

He let himself get lost into the kiss, responding to it. He was, however, at quite a loss for what to do when he felt the Dark Lord pulling back.

That red tongue running over the ever-so-white lips.

"Soon you will find ways to show me how - devoted - you are, Draco. If you will want to attend my summons, that is."

Draco could hardly think straight, could not do much but stare into those red eyes. The man's image jumped to his eyes, the well-built body, dressed ever so elegantly in those smart black clothes. The deep brown hair cascading down to his waist, framing the pale face with its full lips. The most striking features, however, were still the reddish, snake-like eyes. Draco gazed inside them, his empath abilities screaming about the man's desire, a theory that could be easily proved by the view of Voldemort's member trying to find a way through those pants. Upon that sight, Draco smiled what he knew to be his best, his heart-breaking smile.

"Don't I always, Milord?"

-*-

One week after his last encounter with Lord Voldemort, Draco couldn't help humming as he fixed his hair. The reason for all that sudden happiness was quite easy to spot: the increasingly blacker skull on his pale wrist.

-*-

Severus Snape was having a bad case of headache. It was certainly not helping improve his humour.

He should not be sulking like he was. He had what he had wanted the most for nearly all of his life.

Not what. Who. A very, very special person.

He seldom failed to smile as he thought of Lucius.

He and his lover had been seeing each other quite frequently. Much more often, however, did he get a glimpse of Lucius' face than Malfoy could take a good look at him. After all, he had not married and produced a mini-Snape Lucius could spend hours teaching and looking at. Observing each mannerism, watching each feature. Learning to love as his own.

It really annoyed him that Draco had been avoiding him. He was, after all, the boy's mentor at the very least.

Don't underestimate yourself, Severus. You're partly his father.

He treated Draco as if the boy was his own child, and also Lucius seemed to consider it so; somewhere deep in his arrogant heart he recognised how much of Severus was in the boy. Which was why Snape considered himself in the right to treat Draco as his own, to tell him off as much as he would spoil him - not telling Lucius, of course, otherwise how would he be able to lecture Lucius for spoiling the kid so much? - and to take upon himself the responsibility of mediating the relations between Malfoy father and son.

Lucius was always too hard on him, in spite of all the spoiling.

And because of that he didn't tell Lucius about Draco's behaviour at school, about how much trouble was the youth getting into. Not like Draco wasn't smart enough not to be caught, but it didn't stop his mentor from knowing all about it. However, Snape had chose to respect that as well as Draco's decision to cut relations with him. He respected that because he had a pretty good idea of the reason for all that, which would be the reason for his own happiness.

Draco doesn't like to share what he considers as his.

Snape understood it as typical teenager angst and lack of self-confidence, even if Malfoys were famous for being so self-assured. Draco was a sixteen-year-old, after all. So, Severus had refrained from saying anything.

Until that moment, when he had decided to go and talk to his pupil.

I won't be telling him off for it, I'll be merely reassuring him.

He intended to talk to Draco, not about what he and Lucius had - it was not his damn business anyway - but what about he, the Potions Master, and Draco had. Their relationship had always been one of silent friendship and complicity. Severus really missed it.

He carefully planned his words as he made his way from his office to Draco's dormitory.

Severus opened the door to find Draco standing in front of the mirror, fixing his hair, smelling of expensive cologne. He was all dressed in black, black short-sleeved shirt, black dragon leather boots, black leather pants.

Snape knew those pants, knew what they stood for. And for that reason he was more than a little shaken to see the Mark becoming darker and darker against the pale wrist.

"Where are you going, Draco?" he asked naturally. Well, at least he was sounding natural.

"Summoned."

The boy kept fixing his hair while answering, never taking his eyes away from his mirrored image.

"Hmm. Alone?"

"Guess so."

Draco's voice gave nothing away, neither did the expression on his eyes. Dull. Irritatingly dull. Severus knew better than to think that it didn't mean anything.

Draco seemed to finish his work and flashed him a smile.

Snape did not know if the smile had been meant for the mirror or himself. It was a seductive smile, that much he was sure of.

"It seems to be a constant nowadays."

He let that out in a sly voice.

Draco finally turned around. He looked perfect, not hair out of place, face perfectly stoic.

It was Malfoy at the most dangerous.

"I wonder why would YOU be concerned." The word's left Draco's mocking lips slowly.

That game enervated Severus, but he could play too. He was rather good at giving apparently innocent sentences a whole new painful meaning and making people feel like dirt.

"As you well know, as long as you're within Hogwarts' grounds Lucius will hold me responsible for anything that happens to you. I don't want to deal with angry Lucius, and I believe I'm correct in assuming that neither do you." Pause. "Give me a good reason for not telling him, Draco."

"Tell him what?"

"That you've spent far too many nights away. That you always come back badly bruised. I've kept my silence so far, but..."

"Tell me, Professor." The bitter tone, putting Severus back on his place. Making him small and disposable, a mere tool, an employee. Draco had been accurate with the choice of words; Severus couldn't have been more hurt. "Why haven't you told Father anything yet, since it bothers you so much?"

"For your sake, Draco."

For your sake, you irritating little bastard, because I don't want Lucius worried, I don't want you to fight, I don't want you to think that I caused it because I happen to like you, Draco, actually like you.

"Hmmm. So it doesn't, by any chance, have anything to do with the fact that it'll draw his attention from you?"

How could someone so young be so ironic?

"What?!"

Severus could hardly believe his ears.

"You heard me right. You care nothing about me, you're just bloody jealous!" As Draco carried on his tone became less sarcastic and more sincere, more disturbed. "And believe me, you've got reasons. I can take him away from you. One word of mine and he'll drop you like-"

"Draco Lucifer Malfoy, gain your senses back this instant! I will not tolerate-"

"You're bloody afraid! Be afraid! Curl pathetically up in your corner while I get myself killed and don't you utter a word. If he's nursing me, how will he find the time to fuck you?"

Gone was the unbreakable Malfoy facade; Draco's face was crimson and he was yelling in rage, anger showing clearly in his eyes. Snape, on the other hand, looked cool.

"I believe that you're mistaken, Mr. Malfoy. In fact," Severus allowed himself a small smile, "I think that it's the other way round."

Of course. So obvious. Draco was behaving terribly badly - under any circumstances that not the present ones, he'd never have gotten away with it. Severus hadn't told him off of talked to Lucius because he believed it to be a phase. Every child gets frightened when his father finds himself a life, especially only children and spoiled ones at that like Draco.

There wasn't much trouble in Draco learning from his own mistakes, no problems other than Lucius having Severus' dead body for not looking over his son. And no bigger problems than Draco toying with the one he mustn't: Voldemort.

But he'd end that mess right away. He'd talk to Draco, then talk to Lucius and-

"Stupefy!"

Draco stared emotionlessly as his professor's body hit the floor. Snape would no longer come between him and his goals. He had wanted his father, and Severus had stood in the way. Now he craved for Voldemort's company, and the Dark Lord would have him...

He walked out of his dorm and to the Head of the House's office, from where he Flooed to Lord Voldemort's Headquarters. Butterflies had chosen to take residence in his stomach.

Stepping out of that familiar fireplace, he brushed the dust from his clothes. His fingers registered the feel of the leather against them. Draco grinned. In those pants, he was just plain fuckable.