The Other One

THE OTHER ONE

[ Chapter 3 ]

Lucius Malfoy glazed his thoughts and feelings with a multi-mega thick crust of icy detachment and despondency. The Dementors glided pass his cell with frustration. He pulled out a picture from under his pillow.

The moving picture was a piece of evidence that he had committed the crime that would destroy the entire Malfoy clan. He traced the profile lines of the beautiful olive complexioned Gypsy woman. She hadn't aged, well she did but it only made her more beautiful. The exotic slant of her mesmerizing vivid cerulean laughing eyes, were smiling at the attractive man by her side.

He gazed at the handsome man with distinctive aristocratic features, the straight patrician nose, tough square jaw, the well chiseled look of Adonis, very tall, has broad shoulders, excellent looking pearly whites, well-toned masculine body and the Malfoy grey eyes. He took the same coloring of the beautiful older woman beside him, but a little darker toned. He has thick straight black hair and the same exotic slant of the eyes like his mother. On a woman, the exotic slant would look ethereal. On a man, it looks...what did the young ones say...oh, yes...sexy hot.

That was saying a lot coming from a man. A man didn't compliment another unless it was on his wedding day or if he was...*grimacing*...gay and other related queerness. Oh, he's aware that he's not a Saint. Who would want to be one? As for him, he thought smugly, he was a Sinner through and through. He'd done some ultra wild sickening stuff in his heydays being a rakehell. He did experience...sleeping with a man...as to who he was, he wouldn't disclose if they performed the Imperius and Cruciatus curse on him. It was really all down to living up and protecting his reputation and honor.

Anyhow, he wasn't into gayism at all. He just wanted to know what and how it was like to fuck a man's asshole. He was somewhat in between scoffing and gagging at the memory. It was like fucking a steel pole with legs. How could anyone find enjoyment in that? He became glum as he thought of Draco. Suffice to say when he did it he thought his member would fall off in the process of the act. He shuddered despite of himself. He was a father and he had his concerns about things like that should stay intact, because it's a man's pride whatever he was.

Anyway, back to Saints. He considered those who were saints whether appointed like that Potter boy or self-appointed also like that Potter boy, didn't have much of a life. No life at all. No excitement. No living on the edge and taking risks, other than save the world from doom and gloom. Rather, he thought scathingly, they were a bunch of SERIOUSLY disturbed and obsessed goody-goody fools. And they thought he was disturbed and obsessed! Sighing, the glory days of being youthful...and people say 'life is wasted on the young'...they must be off their rockers! It was the young ones who were living their lives to the max.

Then, pushing those heady thoughts and memories aside, scowling because he'd strayed off the main subject of the problem he was facing. Lucius stared at the man in the picture. He couldn't help but wonder if he was the one who gave life to such a man. Like his mother, he was different. He had both fine qualities from his side and his mother's. As did with Draco. However, the comparison ended there. While Draco was self-absorbing, was very spoiled (thanks to Narcissa's upbringing), a wastrel and a disgrace to the Malfoy name for being what he was, less than a man. As a father, he was sad to say, Draco was not at all a man. He should've been a SHE because he was pretty, not handsome.

This other son of his, however, was a self-made man and a man who would answer to no one but his own voice. He was a successful, powerful and charismatic business wizard. He exuded a different aura that was neither dark nor light. Even in the picture his unique aura permeated the essence of mystery, intrigue, and danger. Yes, he did possess some good Malfoy qualities. For instance, he had a head for business and numbers and used them to extreme advantage and was richer than Midas. He dressed well, very masculine and wore soft expensive textured materials and only the best leatherwear including shoes.

He was thrilled beyond words that this other son of his was in fact schooled in his alma mater, Durmstrang. He was even pleased that this son was better than good at Quidditch. He was an excellent Beater. He sent many Seekers (bruised and/or knocked out) to the hospital wing. Hah! He would've given that Potter boy a good run through. It was all there in the file and he'd read everything while Ragnar was babbling on-off-riddling talk. During their days in Durmstrang, they'd devised this 'talk' to put off any suspicions when they wanted to do something...dastardly diabolic.

One thing he didn't like was that this other son mixed his Muggle business and Wizarding business together. However, he liked the concept of communication networking. He liked the way this other son thought. He thinks far ahead. Lucius began to see what this son saw and saw how vast the potential was. It was endless. There would be no end to communication till the end of time.

Also, this other son of his has many girlfriends but as usual no steady one. No wonder there, since he had all the primal qualities. The type all women be they young or old, would fall for but none would get him until Fate introduced the one for him because like it or not he was like him. The Malfoys would and could only love once. Hmmm, he recalled an article from a wizarding market tabloid, which was attached in the file. The Witch Weekly was filled with juicy information about the eligible bachelors of the wizarding world. Apparently, this other son took the first spot of Most Hunted & Haunted Bachelors for two years in a row. Draco lost the hotspot when it was known that he was...*inhaled very deeply*...gay...

He searched his mind's filing cabinet for this other son's name. Ahh...yes, his name was Keir Emrys Auberon. An apt first name, he was dark skinned, had hair the color of midnight and piercing grey eyes. As for his middle name, he mused slightly, also appropriately describing him of being an 'immortal'. Immortals were dubbed as mysterious, intriguing and dangerous. The last name, sums up this son as a whole person in a unique magical bind of balanced supernatural powers. He hoped that this other son would not be a confirmed bachelor. It would be a waste of good stock. He knew in his heart, however, this son was a man.

Somehow he was glad he made the mistake of not presenting Keir's mother with a black rose. And somewhere up there, the BIG someone was having a BIG laugh, eyeing him with his divine BIG eyes, saying, "I love miracles, don't you?"

It was also a miracle that was doing him in along with the entire Malfoy clan, he thought darkly.

Switching his attention from the man in the picture to the older woman next to him. "Aurora." He whispered softly, savoring her name as he savored memories of her. Then he frowned at her surname, Auberon. He remembered the Auberons were an old prestigious wizarding family. They were as old as The Ancient and Noble House of Black. Might be even older than the Blacks and Lestranges. He didn't know she was an Auberon. He'd thought of her as a lowly Gypsy girl. The Auberons ancestry were likened and linked to Melusine, the French witch-princess, and staunch Armenian great gypsy sages and mages.

The Dark Lord wanted them to join as Death Eaters because they possessed extraordinary wizarding powers and the Auberons were an exceptionally gifted clan, especially with their minds and had second sights. They have the ability to transfer thoughts, images, sensations, read thoughts, could torture and kill with thoughts, levitate objects and transferring objects from one place to another, materializing / dematerializing / rematerializing objects with thoughts and the list goes on.

Those who were seers have the power to gaze the future or the past, even both sometimes and they have the ability of sensing or reading from physical objects the history of each object (say people / animals / things that were associated with the object). They also had a way with words that thwarted the Dark Lord from absorbing them into his cause. Alain (the head of the Auberon clan, Aurora's grandfather) managed to politely decline the offer. Lucius bet that the elder Auberon used his mental gifts on the Dark Lord, because he 'saw' or 'read' or might be both about the Dark Lord and his cause and therefore, didn't want to participate.

About Aurora, he understood why the Gypsies let her in their camp because she looked like them, dressed like them, spoke their language, all he knew from what he heard it sounded very Gothic. The land where they camped for the time being was in fact Auberon land. But, she suspected the Gypsies let her in because they were scared to death of the Auberons. He should've known that she was an Auberon, bluest of blue eyes when he met her for the first time and he had an appointment to see her father. His dealings with the DuMartiniques were fruitful.

But, with Michel (Aurora's father) was an absolute zero. There wasn't any opportunity for him to even crack a smile. The moment the old geezer looked at him hard with his brilliant blues (he, Lucius was very blind and had forgotten about the old families histories) had suddenly decided to haul and throw him out of his chateau using of course his butler and valet.

The old man must have 'seen' or 'read' something in him that he hated because he said, "Mal foi!"

And he like a damned dumb jackass said, "Yes, I'm Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy."

Now, as he thought about it, it began to make sense why the old man was outraged because he did 'see' or 'read' something that had to do with his own daughter and also about himself (his association with the Dark Lord, which the Auberons were neither against nor participated, they were an observing clan, even if the Dark Lord won, it wouldn't make any difference to them. They were a stand-alone and independent clan). One thing remained with the Auberons and they were a clan to be reckoned with. So, never ever cross them, if you do, be prepared for a big surprise, mentally speaking of course.

It also made him to think about what abilities Aurora had and what had she 'seen' or 'read' about him when they were together. Was that why she was sad? Was that why she had unshed tears in her eyes which she thought he didn't see when they'd kissed and embraced for the last time? Was that why she didn't tell him her name? What about Keir? Has he any of those extraordinary powers?

"Mr. Malfoy," A gobroll messenger (a goblin-troll hybrid, which was illegal but it was an accidental experiment that was successful. The creator (muggles would call him a mad scientist) was in Azkaban serving time and was persuading a Dementor about mixing its DNA with a Banshee and a Kelpie (a BanKelTor?!)) The Gobrolls were under the ICW protection list of new founded creatures and were made known of their existence to the MoMs around the world) slipped the unrolled parchment into his cell. "An owl for you."

Lucius got up and looked down at the floor. He bent over and picked the unrolled parchment. Of course, he thought sneeringly, they would've opened my mail. Didn't believe in was 'clean', did they? Thought it was full of dark underlying meaning and performed the Unhidden Charm on it, didn't they? Well, boo...on them! He flapped it open and read its contents in graceful greediness.

"Good." He was satisfied with the contents, folded the parchment and slipped it under his pillow. Time was running out on him, the process had already begun. Grimly, he placed a trembling hand on his chest, he could feel and hear surprised anguished cries from the distant branches of Malfoys...being erased from existence. Yet, he didn't feel guilty. Yes, he was at fault, but of feeling guilty for causing such crisis, he wasn't feeling any of it. It was his duty to make things right and he was doing his best to uphold the family's existence.

Then, his thoughts drifted to a cerulean-eyed Gypsy beauty as he laid on his back on the hard tattered looking single mattress without cover. His heart thudded hard, not because there would be a mind and body shocking visitation from Hesperos, the cursed talisman that was residing in him, it was something far more potent than pain.

It was a rekindled strong emotion. One he had suppressed for so very long and still had to repress it in his heart till the day he died.

=====

Draco stirred, half aroused and half cold from the cool night breeze. Breeze? His drug induced mind mused, as he groped for the heavy blankets. Tenderly smiling at a moan, which had escaped from Zevan Zabini, Blaise's younger brother who was pressed snugly to him. The cold persisted, his eyes wide shifted to the balcony door that was wide open. He grew irritated and reached for his wand under his pillow. He swore he'd get his hands on the house-elf for his carelessness.

"Tsk-tsk-tsk! Blaming on house-elves, Malfoy. How mundane!" A smooth male voice echoed softly around the large bedroom.

An accented voice bearing cool cultured authority and held all the ice of the Artic, which glazed through at a taken aback Draco that brought him up short. He narrowed his eyes at the intruder. A hooded, tall and large dark shadowy figure all attired in black apparel was standing in his bedroom. The intruder's broad frame blocking the pale moonbeam shone through the widely opened bedroom balcony glass door lending him an air of eeriness, mysteriousness and danger.

A mind reader! Draco's eyes tried to focus on the intruder. Apprehension gripped his innards. The Dark Lord was dead. So were his followers. Those who survived were imprisoned in Azkaban, that included his scum of a father and were going to be awarded with the Dementors' Kiss for their crimes. The sentence would be carried out in a week's time and he would be there to bear witness.

How would one go to witness the death of one's sire? The convicts were as good as dead when their souls were sucked out from their bodies. Though, he felt no love for his father, even then, how? That was why he was high on drugs and booze and Zabini was another wayside distraction to his burden. He shook his head to clear the fogginess.

Glancing cautiously at this looming dark shadow, he slowly stood up with wand in hand. The intruder seemed to find him amusing because he chortled. What was going on? Surely, there were no other evil sects still operated sending demented assassins after him. The last of the evil sects was burnt to the ground and the leader killed by his hand. So, what the bloody hell was going on? He tightened his grip on his wand.

"Show your self." He raised his left hand holding his wand. But his hand was shaking, not of fear but of the equilibrium instability.

"All in good time." The deep timbre voice was serious. "Do you hate him so much that you don't even bother reading his letters to you?"

"What?!" Draco was appalled, intrigued and wary at the same time. "I'm armed. I'm warning you..."

The intruder spoke calmly, as he glanced briefly at the sleeping bulk of Draco's drug subdued lover, oblivious of the critical atmosphere surrounding him. "If he took another sniff of that mind-melting drug, it'll snuff the life out of him. If you're not careful, you'll have a stiff in between your ass."

"Fuck you," Draco spat as he raised his wand aiming at the intruder's chest.

"Inadvisable," The intruder drawled lazily, yet with enough icy resolute to make Draco's guts freeze. "If I wanted you dead, you would've been nearing rigor mortis by now."

"Why are you here?" Draco demanded haughtily. His wand still aimed at the intruder's chest.

"Observing you," His voice held a sliver of contempt, turning his head back at Draco.

Draco cursed under his breath. "Are you stalking me?" This was getting on his nerves.

"No," The intruder kept silent, offering no more explanation.

"Tell me who you are or else..." The darkness and this brooding intruder only aggravated the tension and he trained his wand at the intruder, when suddenly THEEEESHEESH! His wand flew out of his hand, clattering somewhere beneath a chest of drawers.

He yelped in pain and felt his eyes moistened. "Shit!" His other hand gripped his stinging wrist. "What the...?" His eyes widened as he saw that the intruder was holding a whip, which was magically coiling itself like a snake round the intruder's waist.

Draco was amazed at the intruder's fast reflexes. The intruder's reflexes were better than a Seeker's. He didn't even see it coming. It was lightning fast and would in fact put Harry Potter to shame on the Quidditch pitch.

He looked at his wrist, his lips thinned both in pain and anger as he saw the glaring red circle round his wrist.

The intruder just stood there, legs apart and cocking his head slightly. "I do apologize, but you deserved it."

Then the intruder looked at him, it was in Draco's opinion, a searing look one that painlessly peeled Draco's mind. "You've read Ragnar's message...good." The intruder began to fade, much to Draco's amazement.

The dark intruder spoke yet his voice was but an echo. "Reality stings. It will be just that when we meet, again." Then he faded into a mist, which evaporated into thin air.

What the hell was going on? Draco was shocked, drained and for the first time he couldn't be his arrogant, sarcastic self. No one could Apparate or Disapparate in Malfoy Manor without being shredded to oblivion. Only grandmasters like Voldermort or Dumbledore could to do that.

He blinked, Ragnar's message? Why did the intruder say that? What did the intruder know of it? He was seeing his father tomorrow with Ragnar because his father wanted to tell them something about the Malfoy curse or something to that important effect.

In his disconcerted and bewildered state, he was unaware that he had not a stitch on him. He was gloriously naked. Running his fingers through his hair, his mind was still reeling from the encounter with the mysterious intruder while staring at the widely opened balcony, just who the bloody hell was he?

[ to be continued ]