no challenge, 3 fics
Title: And in the end...
Summary: Gideon relives his past and then faces his future (NOTE: This was written right after OotP so timelines may appear wrong)
Characters/Pairings: Gideon Prewett, Fabian Prewett, Antonin Dolohov, implied Dorcas Meadowes/Gideon
Genre: angst
Rating/Warnings: PG13? Death etc
Word Count: 1247
Gideon ran a hand over the leather bound book. He’d had a journal in school, so it seemed logical to keep one through out the rest of his trials as well. He just wished the past few years wouldn’t have been filled with so many deaths.
The Order of the Phoenix picture had been taken the first of August, 1977. It was the first day of September now, 1980. Just over 3 years, and far too many had gone. He looked back in his journal.
18 August, 1977.
Marlene McKinnon was killed by Death Eaters. She was at least lucky enough to die with her family. She, like all, will be missed. Even if she did have the strangest taste in music.
7 February, 1978
Caradoc Dearborn has gone without a trace. No clues. Nothing.
Scribbled in the margin it said: Body has still not been found.
20 August, 1979
Piece of Benjy Fenwick’s body have been found. Bless his heart, another Prefect that tried to keep me in line. You always kept us in line, Benjy. Always.
10 March, 1980
Edgar Bones was killed with his family. Another gone. How long can our numbers last? How long can we hold up against this?
31 December, 1980
I finally figured out what happened to Dorcas today. The only girl I ever loved. She was taken captive months ago, which is what I had guessed. Voldemort took a special interest in her. He knew she was strong. And self taught. And had plenty of information. He killed her today in battle. She was held up for everyone to see, like some twisted joke regarding the Easter Passion. Strung up, he killed her because there were “failed negotiations”.
A tear dripped down his face and smudged some of the ink written words. It wasn’t the first time it’d happened either. Every time he read this day, his heart broke anew. Every day the pain hit him again. Like waking up to the information for the first time. Even Fabian had stopped making fun of him for it. Then again, he’d hardened considerably. Not really talking to anyone. Taking to being out at all hours. He was about to throw himself into the fire. He couldn’t see much for living for anymore. This mission had a strong potential of no return. Fabian had signed up, and he wasn’t about to let his brother go like he did Dorcas. Flipping back dozens of pages, he read
14 March, 1972
“I just never saw the point of letting someone else down when I could save them.”
He could have saved Dorcas that day. Battered, bruised, and barely holding it together, she never looked away from the Order. He knew she would have wanted it this way though. If he would have saved her, she would have been spared only temporarily. They all would have fallen rapidly then. He just wished, and hoped against hope, that when she looked to them, that she saw him blow her a kiss. His tears flowed freely now. There was so much he wanted to do for her. He wanted them to grow old together. To find a house to make a home. Maybe even have kids. Even though they both said they weren’t fond of them.
He’d never be able to see her make a face at him. Or to laugh when they made fun of each other. Just to hold her. To see her. Brush a bit of hair out of her face.
He opened the journal to a new page, and began to write about today.
1 September, 1981
I turn 25 in nine days. Not that I know what it’s good for. I turned inward when she left me, so I must protect the only other person who’s always been there for me. I go on a mission today, with Fabian. There is only a 50% chance that we’ll come back. One of us may, I doubt both. But there is no other place I’d rather be than with my brother. Even in these times of war, he proves to me that I must keep going. That I can’t let the others have died in vain. And even if every day is a battle I must fight within myself, I have to push on.
He closed the journal, and stood. Fabian was in the doorway, waiting for him. He noted the concern on his brother’s face, but Fabian wouldn’t say a word about him crying. Instead, he refused to let Gideon out the door until the tear stains had disappeared from his cheeks.
They were briefed, not as Gideon and Fabian, but as the Prewett Brothers. For whatever reason, this amused Gideon. Then again, he’d begun to think he had gone crazy. They all pitied him. He was soulful, from the first day at Hogwarts. Time did not change all things.
* * *
Upon their arrival, things were quiet. Not too quiet, just hushed. Gideon was to be the lookout while Fabian did his damnedest to bring back Antonin Dolohov. Dolohov was well protected though, and a smart classmate of theirs. Gideon spat at the sheer thought of going to school with these people. How did it all end up like this?
Fabian went, searching in the underbrush for some type of trap door. Movement caught Gideon’s eye. Gideon watched with intensity to see what happened. Minutes went on with no movement other than Fabian.
Out of nowhere, movement was made startling Gideon outright. He called to his brother, but he knew it was already too late. Someone came up quickly behind Fabian, but Gideon stunned them, sending them back several feet. No one was going to harm his brother.
Fighting went on for several minutes, one of the Death Eaters took a stab, with a knife at Fabian. Out of nowhere, Gideon called an unforgivable, killing the Death Eater. All involved stopped for a second to see who would do that. A feral grin and untamable sparkle in his eye was all that Gideon showed them before attacking again. In his haste, he never noted to see if anyone was behind him. The brothers stood next to one another. Upon another strike, Gideon said “This is for Dorcas Meadowes, you Death Eating Piece of shit. EAT THIS!” he casts a spell, burning a Death Eater.
Directly behind Gideon, a Death Eater was preparing to use an unforgivable curse. Fabain seeing this at moves in attempts to spare his brother.
“Gideon,” He spoke as he moved. “You know, Mum and Da always liked you best. They didn’t name you after the Hebrews to make you the Black Sheep, but to let you explore a whole different world.” Fabian smiled.
Gideon realized what his brother was doing. “Fabian, I love you.” It was the last chance he would have, and he knew it.
“And I you.” The hit struck Fabian in the chest, knocking both Prewetts over. His anger and aggression renewed at the death of his brother, he stood.
“Dolohov. Tell you master he can kill as many as he wants. We’re not going anywhere. You kill my girl, fine. You kill my brother, fine. Each one that dies is another reason for me to fight stronger and harder than before. My brother and I are the hero’s here. Not your pathetic little group.” He spat at the last bit with so much vengeance.
Dolohov just smiled, and Gideon was no more.
1247/30=42
Title: Little Things
Summary: Harry begins to question his relationship
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Oliver
Genre: Drama/angst
Rating/Warnings: PG-12
Word Count: 663
It was odd looking back. Like everything before was some strange parallel universe or perhaps this was all just a dream. That, of course, wasn't the case. I was still me, and he was still the most attractive man I've ever met. I think perhaps he always will be.
Our whole relationship, or at this point as I call it a 'relationshit', began with a smirk and the whispered "You are so hot." Cliche, isn't it? For me always having been the Alpha Male, it is odd to see myself submitting to someone else's will. Submit I did though, and found it an exhilarating and exciting experience. It's something I think I would only do for him... for Oliver Wood.
It started out rather whirlwind, as can be imagined by my previous statements. This in and of itself is dangerous, as romances of this type can fizzle out rather fast. Ours didn't. We kept things new and fresh, trying never to do the same thing twice unless it was agreed to. It was years before I started to get bored. I didn't want to have sex all the time. I wanted to get into his head. To know who he really was, what he desired. I guess that broke some unspoken rule he had because things were never again the same between us.
I was so focused on him at the time, I didn't see it though. It was like leaving the faucet on when you leave the room. You wonder for just a moment if the sound of water is the real thing but you ignore it. You continue to ignore it as it seeps up and over your feet. The water simply creeps up and around you to drown you in its silent power. It chills you, but still you don't notice. A strange rain falling to distract you from what is so obvious. It's the little things that began to give away the fact that he didn't care for me much anymore. There were no more gifts left spontaneously. I tried to continue date night, but Oliver was always busy with practice or matches in one of several leagues he played in.
I let it go. How could I not? I still loved him and despite everything, thought I could win him back with my charms. How daft, I know, but it didn't even slow me. In time I fell back into the almost casual sex with a different kink or story each time. A constant evolution with a trusted partner. Things smoothed over, but still those little things continued. Oliver would say my name less often. Instead of a smirk and spontaneous sex, we would sit and read or watch the tele. I was there, sure, but he didn't care. I was convenient, not wanted and desired. It grew back into something comfortable and mutually beneficial. I grew back into a state of desire, where I took a more alpha role and we spent a brief few weeks back in that original fervor we once knew.
Turn-about is fair play, though, and soon enough he no longer wanted to be sexually active with me. At least not to the same quantity. I know he doesn't want me anymore. He humors me because he can't figure out how to tell me to bugger off. He's too kind when he should just say what is on his mind. If he told me to leave, I would. I can't do it on my own though. I just keep hoping that he'll love me again. That he will reach for me and bring me back to his side.
The boy who lived? Perhaps I once was. Now I am just living a hollow and empty life, stuck on wondering if it will ever stop hurting and Oliver will leave it all behind for me like I once did for him. He won't. I mean nothing to him... the little things give him away.
663/30=22
Title: Sacrifice
Summary: (Note: Written just after HPB, so timelines may be off - also I clearly didn't finish it nor do I remember where I was going but here is what I have!)
Characters/Pairings: Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Antonin Dolohov
Genre: Drama
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Word Count: 1489
It was a regrettable decision to rescue Lucius Malfoy from prison. His son hadn’t protested, though it was obvious in his eyes he didn’t want it. That was the only caring thing still about Draco, his eyes. Everything else had turned into that placid mask of disdain that he’d learned from his family and now colleagues. He had become the new pet of the circle. The next era of followers for the Dark Lord. It was he who would set the standard and principles, he was told. And he’d best take better heed in things than his father had.
It was after that reward, that… simple caress on the cheek from the Dark Lord and a new robe, that set it all off. Now that Severus Snape was no longer under any kind of pretense and protection from the late Albus Dumbledore, he was free to do his Lord’s biddings. The first, the removal of one Lucius Malfoy.
Severus had been assigned the task, as well as Dolohov. Antonin had ceased to become a more physical member of the circle after his killing of Fabian and Gideon Prewett. They certainly had done some amazing things to him. Dolohov was a thinker though. A cunning man who left nothing to waste. Waste, after all, left a trail. That was a dirty mark nobody wanted.
They had been doing much planning, though Severus would have far preferred this mission on his own. Being the Half-Blood Prince had its benefits after all. He had been able to brew a Potion to drink that would ward of Dementors. This is, after all, why they had never bothered him, though he had a good deal to be fearful of. There were few, if any, others who publicly knew this. Most chose to keep their secrets. Trying to buy in favour with the Prince, and Lord in turn. Hoping they would be a good enough pet to keep around when the rest became minions and flunkies. When their long overdue revolution was complete.
Severus had his own theories on why the Dark Lord had assigned Dolohov of all people to go with him. It certainly couldn't be for his remaining physical prowess.
///
The young Malfoy brat was lounging in robes of Emerald and Silver. After his escape with Snape from that blasted Hogwarts, the Dark Lord had chose to keep him close. This unnerved Draco greatly, as he would have far preferred his… adoring fans. He had spoken highly of his classmates who had helped him along, aiding in his progress. He had also made sure to point out every fault and what they could have done to make his success far easier. How Pansy Parkinson if no one else could be in the Lord’s younger inner circle. The rest, were simply lackeys as far as HE was concerned. Another flash of concern and fear crossed his eyes as a hood slipped back to show a fine face, nose upturned and a cascade of silver blond hair. His mother. He rose, gracefully, and went to her. There was no other reason than to be away from those red eyes that never seem to stop regarding him. Examining him. Scrutinizing. It made his arm tingle every time the Dark Lord was in his presence.
“Mother.” His voice had a slight tinge of comfort to it, eyes offering the smallest hint of… no, that was not possible.
“Draco.” She smoothed his hair back, noting with a bit of fear how much he looked like his father. The steely eyes, fine chiseled features, and aristocratic air only fine breeding could produce. “You’re looking better and better every time I come to visit you.” Leaving his side, she approached where the Dark Lord typically sat. He was out currently, but that was no reason not to bow at his chair, or throne rather. Homage was always to be paid to him that would save them all.
Returning to her son’s side, she couldn’t help but notice how old he had gotten so quickly. “Come. We have much to discuss.”
They exited their newest headquarters and were off to a safehouse of Narcissa’s chosing. She, afterall, would know best. Or, so she stated often. Draco rolled his eyes a bit, perturbed at her protective ways. He was the newest pet, after all. He’d shown his worth. Earned his keep. Did he still really need her around? Or was it simply boredom that kept him from suggesting something else. His other parent was currently useless, and so far as he knew, would remain that way for quite some time.
“Please don’t tell me you’re still pining over Father.” A sigh entered his voice. Something about the room they were in bordered that of familiarity, though he could not place it. “He’s a useless git, you know.”
“DRACO!” Narcissa whirled in place to glare at her son. “You will not speak ill of your father. He has done great things for our family and the Purebloods. If it wasn’t for him you wouldn’t be the Dark Lord’s new favourite. It was him that suggested you try to find better ways into school.” Slowly her face softened. “But I never could have you far away. I brought you sweets!” With a flick of her wrist a box appeared.
“Thank you, Mother. I shall be certain to take them back with me. I am attempting to watch my figure, you know. The Dark Lord says that I must be ready to serve him at a moment’s notice.” Draco took the box graciously, tapping it and sending it to his seat back where he met his mother that day. “You do realize I only say that about him because he’s in… not here.
Narcissa’s eyes softened just so. “You should be careful when we go to see Bella and her husband, Rodolphus.”
The nod Draco offered was almost nonchalant. As if he knew he was safe and that was the only thing that would matter to him. He had his devotees, and was safe. He had a mission, after all. Auntie Bellatrix was just the next piece to his puzzle. How kind of his mother to accomadate him with this step. “When will this be, Mother? You of course have something planned. You always do. One step ahead and intelligent.”
The tall blond smiled fondly at her son. He truly did turn out to be a charmer. “No sooner than a week’s time. Bella has yet to pick a day, though I should think she will pick Wednesday.”
“Wednesday? Why?”
Narcissa only smiled at her son. “I must go, Draco.” Leaning forward, she kissed his forehead and Disapparated with a pop.
///
The night was hazy and rainy. A rather common sight now that the Dementors were breeding so much, there was an almost constant haze about, regardless of the time of day. With a hood drawn up, black eyes shown like onyx into the dimming night. He stood alone, waiting for something. That half knowing, and yet utter boredom. The eyes caught a bit of movement limping towards him. “You survived, Dolohov. How impressive.” His acid coated words gave another emotion however. Severus turned in one broad sweep, cloak billowing out behind him. He consented to walk ahead, not giving the older man a second glance.
Antonin Dolohov struggled to keep up with the ex-Professor, gasping softly for air. This was made more evident as every dozen steps or so he gasped in pain as well as he came down awkwardly on the freshly injured leg.
It was not much farther when Severus stopped and waited for the older man to catch up. “Hurry. The Dark Lord will not be pleased if we arrive late, or separated.” The black eyes reflected like pools.
Soon enough, they were in the Lord’s chamber, heads bowed as they recounted their story in parts, putting the pieces together for him. Eventually, the Dark Lord told them to rise, meeting each of their eyes in turn. A satisfied smile crossed his lips as he met Severus’. “Dolohov. The elder Lestrange will need your help. See him immediately.”
Once Dolohov was out of the room, Severus tilted his head in a combination of a nod and bow. The pale man known as Voldemort simply laughed, the uncharacteristic and grating noise filling the air causing others to cringe. Backing up slowly, Severus kept his head down until he was out of the other man’s presence. He fled the chambers immediately, apparating to his little house at Spinner’s End. He found himself over the shabby loo, emptying his stomach of any contents for the bulk of the night.
It was well beyond dawn when he finally was able to relax. Though with the constant breeding, it was if there was just a lighter gray haze than before. That haze that seemed to cloud out judgment along with the sun and happiness.
1489/30=50
42+22+50=114 Points for Gryffindor
Summary: Gideon relives his past and then faces his future (NOTE: This was written right after OotP so timelines may appear wrong)
Characters/Pairings: Gideon Prewett, Fabian Prewett, Antonin Dolohov, implied Dorcas Meadowes/Gideon
Genre: angst
Rating/Warnings: PG13? Death etc
Word Count: 1247
Gideon ran a hand over the leather bound book. He’d had a journal in school, so it seemed logical to keep one through out the rest of his trials as well. He just wished the past few years wouldn’t have been filled with so many deaths.
The Order of the Phoenix picture had been taken the first of August, 1977. It was the first day of September now, 1980. Just over 3 years, and far too many had gone. He looked back in his journal.
18 August, 1977.
Marlene McKinnon was killed by Death Eaters. She was at least lucky enough to die with her family. She, like all, will be missed. Even if she did have the strangest taste in music.
7 February, 1978
Caradoc Dearborn has gone without a trace. No clues. Nothing.
Scribbled in the margin it said: Body has still not been found.
20 August, 1979
Piece of Benjy Fenwick’s body have been found. Bless his heart, another Prefect that tried to keep me in line. You always kept us in line, Benjy. Always.
10 March, 1980
Edgar Bones was killed with his family. Another gone. How long can our numbers last? How long can we hold up against this?
31 December, 1980
I finally figured out what happened to Dorcas today. The only girl I ever loved. She was taken captive months ago, which is what I had guessed. Voldemort took a special interest in her. He knew she was strong. And self taught. And had plenty of information. He killed her today in battle. She was held up for everyone to see, like some twisted joke regarding the Easter Passion. Strung up, he killed her because there were “failed negotiations”.
A tear dripped down his face and smudged some of the ink written words. It wasn’t the first time it’d happened either. Every time he read this day, his heart broke anew. Every day the pain hit him again. Like waking up to the information for the first time. Even Fabian had stopped making fun of him for it. Then again, he’d hardened considerably. Not really talking to anyone. Taking to being out at all hours. He was about to throw himself into the fire. He couldn’t see much for living for anymore. This mission had a strong potential of no return. Fabian had signed up, and he wasn’t about to let his brother go like he did Dorcas. Flipping back dozens of pages, he read
14 March, 1972
“I just never saw the point of letting someone else down when I could save them.”
He could have saved Dorcas that day. Battered, bruised, and barely holding it together, she never looked away from the Order. He knew she would have wanted it this way though. If he would have saved her, she would have been spared only temporarily. They all would have fallen rapidly then. He just wished, and hoped against hope, that when she looked to them, that she saw him blow her a kiss. His tears flowed freely now. There was so much he wanted to do for her. He wanted them to grow old together. To find a house to make a home. Maybe even have kids. Even though they both said they weren’t fond of them.
He’d never be able to see her make a face at him. Or to laugh when they made fun of each other. Just to hold her. To see her. Brush a bit of hair out of her face.
He opened the journal to a new page, and began to write about today.
1 September, 1981
I turn 25 in nine days. Not that I know what it’s good for. I turned inward when she left me, so I must protect the only other person who’s always been there for me. I go on a mission today, with Fabian. There is only a 50% chance that we’ll come back. One of us may, I doubt both. But there is no other place I’d rather be than with my brother. Even in these times of war, he proves to me that I must keep going. That I can’t let the others have died in vain. And even if every day is a battle I must fight within myself, I have to push on.
He closed the journal, and stood. Fabian was in the doorway, waiting for him. He noted the concern on his brother’s face, but Fabian wouldn’t say a word about him crying. Instead, he refused to let Gideon out the door until the tear stains had disappeared from his cheeks.
They were briefed, not as Gideon and Fabian, but as the Prewett Brothers. For whatever reason, this amused Gideon. Then again, he’d begun to think he had gone crazy. They all pitied him. He was soulful, from the first day at Hogwarts. Time did not change all things.
* * *
Upon their arrival, things were quiet. Not too quiet, just hushed. Gideon was to be the lookout while Fabian did his damnedest to bring back Antonin Dolohov. Dolohov was well protected though, and a smart classmate of theirs. Gideon spat at the sheer thought of going to school with these people. How did it all end up like this?
Fabian went, searching in the underbrush for some type of trap door. Movement caught Gideon’s eye. Gideon watched with intensity to see what happened. Minutes went on with no movement other than Fabian.
Out of nowhere, movement was made startling Gideon outright. He called to his brother, but he knew it was already too late. Someone came up quickly behind Fabian, but Gideon stunned them, sending them back several feet. No one was going to harm his brother.
Fighting went on for several minutes, one of the Death Eaters took a stab, with a knife at Fabian. Out of nowhere, Gideon called an unforgivable, killing the Death Eater. All involved stopped for a second to see who would do that. A feral grin and untamable sparkle in his eye was all that Gideon showed them before attacking again. In his haste, he never noted to see if anyone was behind him. The brothers stood next to one another. Upon another strike, Gideon said “This is for Dorcas Meadowes, you Death Eating Piece of shit. EAT THIS!” he casts a spell, burning a Death Eater.
Directly behind Gideon, a Death Eater was preparing to use an unforgivable curse. Fabain seeing this at moves in attempts to spare his brother.
“Gideon,” He spoke as he moved. “You know, Mum and Da always liked you best. They didn’t name you after the Hebrews to make you the Black Sheep, but to let you explore a whole different world.” Fabian smiled.
Gideon realized what his brother was doing. “Fabian, I love you.” It was the last chance he would have, and he knew it.
“And I you.” The hit struck Fabian in the chest, knocking both Prewetts over. His anger and aggression renewed at the death of his brother, he stood.
“Dolohov. Tell you master he can kill as many as he wants. We’re not going anywhere. You kill my girl, fine. You kill my brother, fine. Each one that dies is another reason for me to fight stronger and harder than before. My brother and I are the hero’s here. Not your pathetic little group.” He spat at the last bit with so much vengeance.
Dolohov just smiled, and Gideon was no more.
1247/30=42
Title: Little Things
Summary: Harry begins to question his relationship
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Oliver
Genre: Drama/angst
Rating/Warnings: PG-12
Word Count: 663
It was odd looking back. Like everything before was some strange parallel universe or perhaps this was all just a dream. That, of course, wasn't the case. I was still me, and he was still the most attractive man I've ever met. I think perhaps he always will be.
Our whole relationship, or at this point as I call it a 'relationshit', began with a smirk and the whispered "You are so hot." Cliche, isn't it? For me always having been the Alpha Male, it is odd to see myself submitting to someone else's will. Submit I did though, and found it an exhilarating and exciting experience. It's something I think I would only do for him... for Oliver Wood.
It started out rather whirlwind, as can be imagined by my previous statements. This in and of itself is dangerous, as romances of this type can fizzle out rather fast. Ours didn't. We kept things new and fresh, trying never to do the same thing twice unless it was agreed to. It was years before I started to get bored. I didn't want to have sex all the time. I wanted to get into his head. To know who he really was, what he desired. I guess that broke some unspoken rule he had because things were never again the same between us.
I was so focused on him at the time, I didn't see it though. It was like leaving the faucet on when you leave the room. You wonder for just a moment if the sound of water is the real thing but you ignore it. You continue to ignore it as it seeps up and over your feet. The water simply creeps up and around you to drown you in its silent power. It chills you, but still you don't notice. A strange rain falling to distract you from what is so obvious. It's the little things that began to give away the fact that he didn't care for me much anymore. There were no more gifts left spontaneously. I tried to continue date night, but Oliver was always busy with practice or matches in one of several leagues he played in.
I let it go. How could I not? I still loved him and despite everything, thought I could win him back with my charms. How daft, I know, but it didn't even slow me. In time I fell back into the almost casual sex with a different kink or story each time. A constant evolution with a trusted partner. Things smoothed over, but still those little things continued. Oliver would say my name less often. Instead of a smirk and spontaneous sex, we would sit and read or watch the tele. I was there, sure, but he didn't care. I was convenient, not wanted and desired. It grew back into something comfortable and mutually beneficial. I grew back into a state of desire, where I took a more alpha role and we spent a brief few weeks back in that original fervor we once knew.
Turn-about is fair play, though, and soon enough he no longer wanted to be sexually active with me. At least not to the same quantity. I know he doesn't want me anymore. He humors me because he can't figure out how to tell me to bugger off. He's too kind when he should just say what is on his mind. If he told me to leave, I would. I can't do it on my own though. I just keep hoping that he'll love me again. That he will reach for me and bring me back to his side.
The boy who lived? Perhaps I once was. Now I am just living a hollow and empty life, stuck on wondering if it will ever stop hurting and Oliver will leave it all behind for me like I once did for him. He won't. I mean nothing to him... the little things give him away.
663/30=22
Title: Sacrifice
Summary: (Note: Written just after HPB, so timelines may be off - also I clearly didn't finish it nor do I remember where I was going but here is what I have!)
Characters/Pairings: Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Antonin Dolohov
Genre: Drama
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Word Count: 1489
It was a regrettable decision to rescue Lucius Malfoy from prison. His son hadn’t protested, though it was obvious in his eyes he didn’t want it. That was the only caring thing still about Draco, his eyes. Everything else had turned into that placid mask of disdain that he’d learned from his family and now colleagues. He had become the new pet of the circle. The next era of followers for the Dark Lord. It was he who would set the standard and principles, he was told. And he’d best take better heed in things than his father had.
It was after that reward, that… simple caress on the cheek from the Dark Lord and a new robe, that set it all off. Now that Severus Snape was no longer under any kind of pretense and protection from the late Albus Dumbledore, he was free to do his Lord’s biddings. The first, the removal of one Lucius Malfoy.
Severus had been assigned the task, as well as Dolohov. Antonin had ceased to become a more physical member of the circle after his killing of Fabian and Gideon Prewett. They certainly had done some amazing things to him. Dolohov was a thinker though. A cunning man who left nothing to waste. Waste, after all, left a trail. That was a dirty mark nobody wanted.
They had been doing much planning, though Severus would have far preferred this mission on his own. Being the Half-Blood Prince had its benefits after all. He had been able to brew a Potion to drink that would ward of Dementors. This is, after all, why they had never bothered him, though he had a good deal to be fearful of. There were few, if any, others who publicly knew this. Most chose to keep their secrets. Trying to buy in favour with the Prince, and Lord in turn. Hoping they would be a good enough pet to keep around when the rest became minions and flunkies. When their long overdue revolution was complete.
Severus had his own theories on why the Dark Lord had assigned Dolohov of all people to go with him. It certainly couldn't be for his remaining physical prowess.
///
The young Malfoy brat was lounging in robes of Emerald and Silver. After his escape with Snape from that blasted Hogwarts, the Dark Lord had chose to keep him close. This unnerved Draco greatly, as he would have far preferred his… adoring fans. He had spoken highly of his classmates who had helped him along, aiding in his progress. He had also made sure to point out every fault and what they could have done to make his success far easier. How Pansy Parkinson if no one else could be in the Lord’s younger inner circle. The rest, were simply lackeys as far as HE was concerned. Another flash of concern and fear crossed his eyes as a hood slipped back to show a fine face, nose upturned and a cascade of silver blond hair. His mother. He rose, gracefully, and went to her. There was no other reason than to be away from those red eyes that never seem to stop regarding him. Examining him. Scrutinizing. It made his arm tingle every time the Dark Lord was in his presence.
“Mother.” His voice had a slight tinge of comfort to it, eyes offering the smallest hint of… no, that was not possible.
“Draco.” She smoothed his hair back, noting with a bit of fear how much he looked like his father. The steely eyes, fine chiseled features, and aristocratic air only fine breeding could produce. “You’re looking better and better every time I come to visit you.” Leaving his side, she approached where the Dark Lord typically sat. He was out currently, but that was no reason not to bow at his chair, or throne rather. Homage was always to be paid to him that would save them all.
Returning to her son’s side, she couldn’t help but notice how old he had gotten so quickly. “Come. We have much to discuss.”
They exited their newest headquarters and were off to a safehouse of Narcissa’s chosing. She, afterall, would know best. Or, so she stated often. Draco rolled his eyes a bit, perturbed at her protective ways. He was the newest pet, after all. He’d shown his worth. Earned his keep. Did he still really need her around? Or was it simply boredom that kept him from suggesting something else. His other parent was currently useless, and so far as he knew, would remain that way for quite some time.
“Please don’t tell me you’re still pining over Father.” A sigh entered his voice. Something about the room they were in bordered that of familiarity, though he could not place it. “He’s a useless git, you know.”
“DRACO!” Narcissa whirled in place to glare at her son. “You will not speak ill of your father. He has done great things for our family and the Purebloods. If it wasn’t for him you wouldn’t be the Dark Lord’s new favourite. It was him that suggested you try to find better ways into school.” Slowly her face softened. “But I never could have you far away. I brought you sweets!” With a flick of her wrist a box appeared.
“Thank you, Mother. I shall be certain to take them back with me. I am attempting to watch my figure, you know. The Dark Lord says that I must be ready to serve him at a moment’s notice.” Draco took the box graciously, tapping it and sending it to his seat back where he met his mother that day. “You do realize I only say that about him because he’s in… not here.
Narcissa’s eyes softened just so. “You should be careful when we go to see Bella and her husband, Rodolphus.”
The nod Draco offered was almost nonchalant. As if he knew he was safe and that was the only thing that would matter to him. He had his devotees, and was safe. He had a mission, after all. Auntie Bellatrix was just the next piece to his puzzle. How kind of his mother to accomadate him with this step. “When will this be, Mother? You of course have something planned. You always do. One step ahead and intelligent.”
The tall blond smiled fondly at her son. He truly did turn out to be a charmer. “No sooner than a week’s time. Bella has yet to pick a day, though I should think she will pick Wednesday.”
“Wednesday? Why?”
Narcissa only smiled at her son. “I must go, Draco.” Leaning forward, she kissed his forehead and Disapparated with a pop.
///
The night was hazy and rainy. A rather common sight now that the Dementors were breeding so much, there was an almost constant haze about, regardless of the time of day. With a hood drawn up, black eyes shown like onyx into the dimming night. He stood alone, waiting for something. That half knowing, and yet utter boredom. The eyes caught a bit of movement limping towards him. “You survived, Dolohov. How impressive.” His acid coated words gave another emotion however. Severus turned in one broad sweep, cloak billowing out behind him. He consented to walk ahead, not giving the older man a second glance.
Antonin Dolohov struggled to keep up with the ex-Professor, gasping softly for air. This was made more evident as every dozen steps or so he gasped in pain as well as he came down awkwardly on the freshly injured leg.
It was not much farther when Severus stopped and waited for the older man to catch up. “Hurry. The Dark Lord will not be pleased if we arrive late, or separated.” The black eyes reflected like pools.
Soon enough, they were in the Lord’s chamber, heads bowed as they recounted their story in parts, putting the pieces together for him. Eventually, the Dark Lord told them to rise, meeting each of their eyes in turn. A satisfied smile crossed his lips as he met Severus’. “Dolohov. The elder Lestrange will need your help. See him immediately.”
Once Dolohov was out of the room, Severus tilted his head in a combination of a nod and bow. The pale man known as Voldemort simply laughed, the uncharacteristic and grating noise filling the air causing others to cringe. Backing up slowly, Severus kept his head down until he was out of the other man’s presence. He fled the chambers immediately, apparating to his little house at Spinner’s End. He found himself over the shabby loo, emptying his stomach of any contents for the bulk of the night.
It was well beyond dawn when he finally was able to relax. Though with the constant breeding, it was if there was just a lighter gray haze than before. That haze that seemed to cloud out judgment along with the sun and happiness.
1489/30=50
42+22+50=114 Points for Gryffindor