The End of the Beginning

Chapter Seven: Voyeuristically

We cannot live for ourselves alone. Our lives are connected by a thousand invisible threads, and along these sympathetic fibers, our actions run as causes and return to us as results. --Herman Melville

The floating smoked skull hung heavy over the castle that housed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Burke swallowed hard as he stared up into the mocking face, unable to tear his eyes away. He had seen a great many things in his long marriage to Catorina. Many incredible, unbelievable things that he had since come to accept as normal and natural. But every once and again, something caught him off guard, something thrashed against his brain, something that he couldn't, would never make sense of. The laughing skull above him was one of those things.

Dumbledore leaned heavily on his cane as he glanced wearily up at the Dark Mark, his age suddenly rushing over him in such a wave that he trembled, and if not for Minerva's hands on his arm, he would have fallen to the ground. He looked away from the emerald smoke and locked eyes with Snape who gave a small nod and moved to herd children and parents back into the school.

It wasn't as successful as one would hope, the young children pointing and talking, their parents rooted in fear. Even the muggles, those still trying to acclimate themselves to this new world were afraid. They knew that mark. They had seen it too many times to not hold the same fear as their wizarding counter parts.

Seamus licked his lips as he tore his eyes away from the symbol, a symbol he now carried on his arm. He tugged at the sleeve of his robe as he slipped through the crowd, trying to hide amongst the throng. He turned and looked over his shoulder, but instead of a green haze, he instead found his eyes drawn to a pair of brown that were stairing coldly into his. He shifted, uncomfortable before turning away from Percy's gaze, fleeing for the safety of the castle. A caste that was no longer a safe haven as tell of young Cotty's disappearance and the floating skull spread through its walls.

***

Peter ran his hand over his cold, silver hand, watching as Lucius paced the room, the older man's robes swirling around him as he stalked a dust bunny, anger radiating of off him. Peter swallowed and poured another shaky glass of brandy, downing it quickly, feeling the alcohol burn through his veins. He looked up again and gave a sheepish smile as he saw Lucius stairing at him. "Just a bit of courage," he said softly, putting the stopper back in the crystal decanter. "For the long road ahead,"

"There is not enough brandy in the world to give you courage, Pettigrew," Malfoy hissed and slammed the far doors open with a flick of his wand. "Summon him. NOW!"

Peter all but ran through the doors, his own anger fueling him. He may have been a rat but really! He was tired of being the fool to someone. First James and Sirius, then Tom. Now this idiot. He really should have killed him when he had the chance.

Peter headed back to his suite of rooms, ignoring the calls of other Death Eaters who were eager to lick Lucius's boots and tried to use Peter as a stepping stone. He didn't have time for the hassle it always caused.

***

Harry slipped slowly down the stairs of the dungeon rooms, humming off key to himself as he thought of seeing Draco. Even after he had returned to Hogwarts, he had only seen his former lover once or twice, the pain still too fresh for both of them. He knew that, seeing as how he was dead, the pain would fade faster, but it was still there, deep inside. It was hard to end true love.

He paused, hearing a sound ahead of him and floated closer, peering around the corner, pushing his glasses up his nose as he watched the back in front of him.

**

Neville stood in the doorway of the potion's classroom, smiling softly as he watched Draco lean over a student, gently correcting his stirring, his hand clasping the other boy's as they stirred the potion together.

He leaned against the door frame, watching the scene, giving a small wave as Draco looked up at him. Draco nodded before going back to teaching, reveling in his job. The bell soon rang and Neville watched as the kids packed up and hurried off, eager for whatever lay before them. He stared after them for a long moment before slipping into the potion's room, joining Draco at his desk.

Draco smiled and earned down, kissing Neville's nose gently, gathering up his things. "And what can I do for you, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville smiled, watching Draco's hands as they slowly, carefully picked up their master's belongings, packing them away in his bag. He paused, licking his lips. "Make me forget him," he whispered, reaching out and stilling Draco's hands.

Draco looked up at him, brow furrowed. "Make you forget..." His eyes widened as Neville nodded and he ran a hand over Neville's smooth cheek before tilting the young man's face up and slowly kissing him.

Neville's eyes fell shut as his returned the kiss, slowly, before slowly growing hungrier, pulling Draco closer, his arms sliding around his, hopefully, soon to be lover's waist.

Draco shoved his worries and concerns to the back of his mind as he slowly undid the fastenings of Neville's robes, his hands trembling as his cool reserve broke, fading away.

**

Percy watched the pair in his scrying bowl, his tears hitting the water, making the images shift and distort. He should have turned away at Neville's words, banished the images, but he couldn't...wouldn't look away from this. Neville was a fool if he ever thought that Draco could replace him, take his place in Neville's heart. And Draco was an idiot for even trying, for daring to be anything to HIS Neville. The blonde man would pay, not now of course. He couldn't make a bloody move without that fool, Albus stalking his footsteps, but soon, when his Master returned to power, then the idiot would pay, a nice, bloody price for this.

**

Neville's hands ran slowly down the silk robes Draco wore before sliding them off his shoulders, his mouth following the fabric over flesh as much as they could before hitting more fabric, a growl rising in his throat. The shirt was done away quickly, aid given by a sharp knife Draco had thoughtfully left on his desk.

Draco cursed and glared at Neville before returning the favor, letting the shards of fabric fall from his hands. A groan escaped as Neville's tounge and mouth left hot, wet trails across his flesh, making him shiver and push the boy away. He kissed Neville tenderly again as he lifted Neville onto the desk, his own mouth playing explorer now, across the planes of pale flesh, tasting new areas, conquering un claimed bits.

Whimpers and sighs escaped Neville, his eyes closed again, savoring the tastes and sensations of pleasure he hadn't felt in far too long. Whatever he had been trying to forget had been forgotten as he gave in to what his body wanted. The pain would come back, but for now, everything was bliss.

**

Hary watched in hungry fascination as his ex claimed a new lover, his pale green eyes drinking in the sight of their bodies moving together, his ears swallowing the sounds that floated to him. His heart twisted inside him, torn, bleeding at the loss. When he had died it had hurt, to leave love behind, but nothing, not even death felt as wretched as watching your lover fall for another, nothing felt as empty as watching that love come to shattering completion. The knowledge that it was all truly gone, that they were gone. That was a lesson Harry would have eagerly done without. He knew Draco wouldn't wait forever, hoped that he wouldn't. But his was far more then he could bear, but still, he watched.

**

"You are crying," Lucius whispered softly, running his fingers through the silken hair that teased his cheek, his other running over his lover's face, gathering the salty droplets, watching as they slid over his finger.

Seamus closed his eyes, more tears falling from his lashes in the action. He swallowed and blinked, looking up at his lover, his master. "I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"Myself, this, what I've done. I'm scared for my family, Cotty..."

"Is fine, I'm sure."

"I wish I could know that. Who...he's just a child."

"A powerful child, or so I've been told."

"But he's only five. Who would take a five year old? He has no training to be of use to anyone, and if it's revenge...for what? We've never done anything."

"Your mother..." Lucius started but trailed off at the look in Seamus' eyes.

"My mother did what she thought was right. She's never been a threat to us, to our cause, she's just a witch in over her head," he growled, sitting up, the silken sheet sliding away from his naked body. He stood and stretched before crossing to the window, the moonlight playing over his flesh.

Lucius watched him, smiling as he studied the beautiful sight presented to him before standing himself and crossing over to Seamus, wrapping his arms around him, pulling him tight against his chest. "I promise, love, I will give whatever I can to help you find your cousin. Your every wish is my command," he whispered, kissing the shell of Seamus' ear.

"And what is the price?"

Lucius' shocked reflection made Seamus laugh mirthlessly. "There is a price to everything, Lucius. The price for power is my body; the price for my secrets is your body. What is the price for your aid?"

"You are too cynical," Lucius said before pulling away. "But there is a job I need done, by the right person."

Seamus just raised an eyebrow, expecting this. He was right about what he said, there was always a price for things. Something he learned early on.

"I have a," Lucius paused, searching for the right word. "Nuisance that has become more of a problem. She was to be my protege, but instead she is a traitor." He looked at Seamus; the moonlight now glinting off a sharp, deadly knife he had picked up from the night table. "Remove this thorn for me?"

Seamus took the knife, running a finger over it before raising his eyes up to the moon. "As my lord wishes," he said softly.

**

Monica looked over her shoulder before pulling her hood lower over her face, slipping out of the shadows and into the moonlight. Her arm itched and she raised her sleeve, glaring at the tattoo on her arm. "Bastard," she hissed and hurried more, darting across the wide lawn, heading for the front doors of Hogwarts. She fingered the scroll in her pocket, a full and detailed account of Death Eater activity, as she knew it. Dumbledore was waiting for this paper, the last bit of proof he needed before he held an assembly for the refugees and students of Hogwarts, announcing the return to war.

She winced as she stepped on a twig, the snap echoing in the still night. She froze and listened hard for sounds that betrayed her, for sounds of pursual but the night was empty not even the insects bothered to announce their presence. Relief coursing through her she moved forward again and screamed as a cold arm slid around her. Her cry was unheard though, muffled by the gloved hand over her mouth. She bit on the hand but her captor just chuckled softly, his lips pressed against her ear.

"Dragon hide, bitch," he whispered, his breath moist, warm.

Something pressed against her ribs and her eyes widened, feeling the point that slid under her robe.

"Our master has called to you and yet you don't come, he worries," the voice said. The point of the knife slid in more, slicing through her thick sweater. "He wishes to speak to you, but you ignore him. He writes and you burn them." The speaker's tounge flickered over her ear. "Traitor," he hissed and pulled the scroll from her pocket.

Seamus shoved Monica forward, pushing her to the ground. He smiled, a cold twisted version as she tried to crawl away. His booted foot landed hard on her back and she fell to the ground, weeping. "Pathetic," he said, shaking his head. He rolled her over with his foot and struck, his knife plunging into her heart, and into the soft soil beneath her body. He knelt and pulled another knife from his boot, lifting her arm, baring the mark she detested with every fiber of her being. He kissed the skull softly before placing the knife against her flesh; the blade biting into her skin, peeling the tattoo she was so unworthy of from her body.

He stood, holding the bloody knife and dripping flesh, the scroll still clutched in his other hand. He put the papers in his mouth for a moment, using his robes to clean his knife carefully before sheathing it, the bit of flesh sliding into a holder, safe for the moment. A golden lighter came from his boot next and he flicked it open, holding the scroll out as he flicked the flame to life.

His face was lit up as he ignited the scroll, letting it burn until he had to release it, the burning ash falling onto the body at his feet, scattering around her. He blew the body a kiss before pulling his hood up again, heading slowly for the castle, his hands in his pockets, a cheery whistle falling from his lips.

**

Percy's eyes followed Seamus as he walked slowly up the entrance steps. As the blonde disappeared into the castle, Percy let his gaze return to the body lying alone on the front lawn, licking his lips, feeling his passions rise even higher. It had been a long time since he had killed, felt the warm blood rush over his flesh, the rush of lust and thrill of adrenaline as his watched life fade from another's eyes. It was something he missed with a burning pain. And now another got to enjoy his thrill while he was stuck in his prison.

**

"Let me go!" Cotty shouted, tears streaming down his face as he pulled against his chains, heaving his entire tiny body forward, biting back a scream as the iron tore into his already torn wrists. "Please," he whispered.

He blinked; light flooding his tear filled vision, making it even harder to see. He could vaguely recognize a tall, thin person standing in front of him, blackness surrounding the body, a darkness that came from within, rather then from the outside. Cotty hated the visions he got, they scared him and gave him nightmares, and he couldn't tell anyone what he saw, no one would belive him.

"Please, let me go," he whispered. "I want my mummy,"

The figure laughed and brushed the tears from his cheeks, kissing his forehead. "Your mummy doesn't want to see you," he said before standing. "Now be a good boy and close your eyes."

"NO!" Cotty screamed but it was no use as the visions kept flooding over his sight, distant images and sounds, brought on by the food and drink they kept forcing on him. "I won't," he whispered, even as his eyes clamped shut against the pain.

Lucius watched the boy for a moment before going back to his desk, keeping an ear on the sounds that came from the closet as he worked.

**

Draco ran his fingers through Neville's hair, watching as his new lover slept, trying to memorize every inch of his face. This was how Neville should look...peaceful, innocent. It was the boy he had always known, though the baby fat had long since been lost, much to Draco's pity. But time had changed the boy, war had hardened him. The anger, fear, hate, worry that Neville felt constantly while awake had changed him, outside as in. The innocence had fled quickly, replaced with lines of worry, creases of hate that aged Neville, and while he was most definitely no less beautiful, Draco's cherub had disappeared, replaced with a man.

Draco kissed Neville's lips tenderly, pulling him closer against him, the blankets cocooning around them. "I won't let you hurt anymore," he whispered, his fingers running down over Neville's back. "I swear it, no more pain, no more loss. I won't let you leave me, just as I won't leave you."

Neville's broken heart slowly started to gather its pieces, warmed by the promise that couldn't be kept.