Penitence Part Seven
May. 27th, 2009 09:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dysonrulesPosted by reason of incessant nagging. LOL!
Pious watched Albus flee and reached out a hand to brace himself against the wall. What the hell was that about? Bloody hell, a ridiculous impulse had turned around and bitten him on the arse.
He had been heading for the Potions classroom when he had noticed his nemesis standing in the deserted, dark hallway, apparently catching his breath. Pious had been unable to resist the sight. He had pretended for days that Potter did not exist and the strain was beginning to tell. He itched to touch that soft skin and stroke the thick hair.
Before he could stop himself he had taken several silent steps and wrapped Potter in a tight embrace. As expected, Potter had gone wire-taut—and then relaxed so suddenly and completely that Pious had nearly released him in surprise. Instead he had leaned forward and tasted Al’s earlobe before whispering into his ear. Even that had not caused Potter to pull away, so Pious had given in to the urge to curl his fingers in the raven hair and tip Potter’s head back.
Fuck, the sight of Al’s slender throat was bad enough, but the half-open lips nearly undid him. A pack of Nouveau Death Eaters could not have kept Pious from lowering his lips to that perfect mouth. He wanted to punish Al for kissing Bleys, for allowing Bleys’s touch, but all thought of punishment fled after the first taste. Pious was lost.
Potter felt like heaven and tasted even better. It had been so long since Pious had even placed a hand on him that the sensation was nearly overwhelming. He expected a fist or elbow or some sort of blow that never came. Potter’s breathing deepened and he made a sound low in his throat that went straight to Pious’s libido. Part of his body woke up eagerly, but not before Albus Potter tore himself out of his arms. Pious nearly stumbled at the sudden absence and noticed that Potter did the same—his fingertips brushed the stone floor before he righted himself and dragged a hand across his mouth.
Pious imagined the accusatory glare Potter no doubt cast at him. It was impossible to tell in the dim lighting. Pious opened him mouth to say—something, but Potter turned and fled. Pious leaned against the wall until he recovered some semblance of dignity.
He strolled in to the Potions classroom and saw Hell reach out a concerned hand toward Potter, whose forehead rested on the table. Potter muttered something and Hell’s fingers withdrew, much to Pious’s satisfaction. He quelled the thought in annoyance. No he did not care who touched Albus Potter.
The other boy ignored Pious for the entirety of the lesson. Pious decided he was relieved. He did find it interesting when Potter completely botched a simple Luminescence Potion. Normally he could brew potions in his sleep. Pious smirked to himself when he realized that something must have disturbed Potter’s concentration. He wanted to confess to Bleys that he had kissed Albus, but his friend was completely focused on the stupid lesson. Bleys had been quite rabid about potions ever since infernal Potter had started tutoring him. Pious tried not to think about what other lessons Bleys and Potter had shared, even though Bleys had assured him that nothing had gone on other than the single kiss Pious had witnessed. Pious would reserve judgment.
When class ended, Potter threw his things together and tried to escape, but Pious quickly stepped in front of him, blocking the exit. The green eyes shot to his in alarm and Pious grinned before reaching out to splay a hand over Al’s chest. He felt a frantic heartbeat beneath his palm.
“See you in Charms, Potter,” he purred softly and felt the breath catch in his throat when a fine blush bloomed over Al’s pale cheeks. Pious could scarcely remember a time when Albus Potter had blushed. He had certainly never done so during Pious’s prior years of mauling. Normally he just snarled, shouted, or hexed him. The blush was new and quite enticing, actually. Pious suddenly wanted to kiss him again.
An elbow caught him sharply in the midsection as Al pushed by him and out the door. The slight pain did nothing to curtail the fine mood Pious found himself in. He actually hummed as he made his way to the Charms classroom.
~~- oOo -~~
Al fled like the hounds of Hades were at his heels. He could not escape to his own room—nowhere in the Slytherin dungeon was safe from the blond dementor. Al went instead to the Hufflepuff dungeon, raced through their common room to the dorm and threw himself on Hell’s bed.
His Hufflepuff friend came in moments later. Hell dropped to the edge of the bed and drew up his legs. “All right, Albus, spill it.”
Al buried his face in the pillow. How was he supposed to admit to his sudden insane attraction to Pious Malfoy? Al groaned.
“What has he done now?” Hell asked.
“Who?” Al mumbled, pretending stupidity. Hell smacked him sharply on the calf. “Ouch!”
“You know very well who. I’ve never seen you like this, Al, so what is it?”
Al felt terrible at the necessity of shutting out Hell. He settled for an abbreviated version of the truth.
“He’s doing it again, Hell. The damned touching thing. I have to stop it. I have to stop it tonight.”
“But the Devil’s Snare isn’t big enough, is it?”
Al sat up and faced Hell. “I’ve been thinking about that. Remember that Growth Charm your dad uses?”
Hell nodded. “Yeah, but it’s only temporary.”
Al laughed. “Exactly. A few hours are all I need. Do you remember the spell?”
“Of course. Dad makes me cast it every time Gran Gram comes over—to make the lawn look thicker.”
Al blinked for a moment. “No wonder your grass always looks like shit.”
“Yeah, it’s really bad on the lawn to keep doing it, but you know how he is around Gran…”
“Can you teach me?”
“Sure, but shouldn’t we get to class right now?”
Al shook his head. “Tell Flitwick I’m sick. I’m going to skive off classes for the rest of the day. Avoid Malfoy until it’s time to lure him in for the kill.”
~~- oOo -~~
Pious was annoyed by Potter’s cowardly reaction. How dared he pretend to be ill merely to avoid him? Pious had confronted Longbottom after Charms and demanded to know where the git had disappeared. Hell stammered some nonsense about Potter feeling sick and taking to his bed. What he meant was that Potter had apparently taken to Longbottom’s bed, because a search of Potter’s bed in the Slytherin dorm disclosed no Albus. Pious was indignant—not for the first time—that Potter had access to the other Houses whenever he wanted. He complained bitterly to Bleys.
“Pious, we’ve had this discussion at least seven dozen times. Yes, it’s bloody unfair that Albus is given the passwords to the other Houses; yes, it is quite annoying that he can come and go as he pleases; and yes, I believe he takes advantage of the fact mostly in order to irritate you. It seems to be working.”
“He’s skulking like a bloody frightened virgin just because I kissed him,” Pious gritted, giving vent to the aforementioned irritation.
“You did what?” Bleys gaped at him and halted in the hallway, nearly causing a group of first-years to run into him. The students parted around them like a school of nervous fish and hurried down the corridor. Most of them were well versed in the wrath of Malfoy and Zabini.
“He seemed to enjoy kissing you so I decided to give him a taste of someone better.” Pious tossed his head and grinned at Bleys’s continuing look of astonishment.
“And you’re still breathing? You don’t have boils, or chronic baldness, or testicles the size of grapefruit…?”
Pious sniffed. “I think he was overwhelmed with lust. He fled after Potions class and has not shown his face since.”
In fact, Pious was more than a little worried about the black-haired boy. Maybe Pious had gone too far this time and scared Potter away forever. Now that Pious had accepted the slight, miniscule possibility that he was maybe a trifling bit attracted to the git… Well, it simply wouldn’t do to have Potter spurning him without at least giving him the same chance he had Bleys. Even if that chance had been entirely faked. Pious scowled. He just wanted to talk to the prat.
“That’s a bit… frightening, actually,” Bleys said and continued walking. They had Care of Magical Creatures after lunch, a class Pious normally adored if only for the numerous opportunities to torment Potter.
“Frightening?” Pious asked and walked quickly to keep up with Bleys. Zabini had two speeds—slower than waiting for Polyjuice Potion to cure, or quick as a Seeker after a Snitch. Both had no rationale other than Zabini’s capricious moods.
“Of course frightening! Just because he hasn’t pulled any horrific pranks lately doesn’t mean he won’t. He told me he was considering a ceasefire, quitting his war against you. Now that you’ve gone and renewed your animosity, there is no telling what he will do!”
“What animosity? I don’t feel any animosity for Potter! I kissed him because I wanted to,” Pious protested innocently. For once he actually meant it.
Bleys stopped again and his dark gaze pieced Pious. “Does Potter know that?”
Pious looked away and wished he had never started the conversation. He was silent for long moments until Bleys made a sound of disgust and continued his ground-eating walk. “Be afraid!” Bleys called over his shoulder.
Pious was furious by the time he returned to the Slytherin Common Room after the evening meal. Potter had not shown his face once since their confrontation in Potions. A quick scan of the common room showed no Potter, so Pious continued into their dorm and yanked back the curtains on Potter’s bed. Empty.
Pious let out a frustrated breath and sat on his own bed. It was then that he noticed the envelope on his pillow. He snatched it and tore it open.
Malfoy, meet me by the statue of Pythagoras at 11 pm. We need to talk. Tell no one. AP
Pious crumpled the paper in his fist and then cast Incendio until even the ashes were gone and only a charred spot remained on the floor. No shit they needed to talk. What the fuck was wrong with doing so here and now? Pious had plenty to say to his absentee dorm-mate. In fact, he thought he might make a list. He had plenty of time before 11 pm. He considered telling Bleys despite Potter’s admonition, but he knew Bleys would simply go on about how he should not meet with an angry Potter in a deserted corridor in the middle of the night. Pious though he knew Potter quite a lot better than Bleys. He wasn’t worried.
PART EIGHT
Pious watched Albus flee and reached out a hand to brace himself against the wall. What the hell was that about? Bloody hell, a ridiculous impulse had turned around and bitten him on the arse.
He had been heading for the Potions classroom when he had noticed his nemesis standing in the deserted, dark hallway, apparently catching his breath. Pious had been unable to resist the sight. He had pretended for days that Potter did not exist and the strain was beginning to tell. He itched to touch that soft skin and stroke the thick hair.
Before he could stop himself he had taken several silent steps and wrapped Potter in a tight embrace. As expected, Potter had gone wire-taut—and then relaxed so suddenly and completely that Pious had nearly released him in surprise. Instead he had leaned forward and tasted Al’s earlobe before whispering into his ear. Even that had not caused Potter to pull away, so Pious had given in to the urge to curl his fingers in the raven hair and tip Potter’s head back.
Fuck, the sight of Al’s slender throat was bad enough, but the half-open lips nearly undid him. A pack of Nouveau Death Eaters could not have kept Pious from lowering his lips to that perfect mouth. He wanted to punish Al for kissing Bleys, for allowing Bleys’s touch, but all thought of punishment fled after the first taste. Pious was lost.
Potter felt like heaven and tasted even better. It had been so long since Pious had even placed a hand on him that the sensation was nearly overwhelming. He expected a fist or elbow or some sort of blow that never came. Potter’s breathing deepened and he made a sound low in his throat that went straight to Pious’s libido. Part of his body woke up eagerly, but not before Albus Potter tore himself out of his arms. Pious nearly stumbled at the sudden absence and noticed that Potter did the same—his fingertips brushed the stone floor before he righted himself and dragged a hand across his mouth.
Pious imagined the accusatory glare Potter no doubt cast at him. It was impossible to tell in the dim lighting. Pious opened him mouth to say—something, but Potter turned and fled. Pious leaned against the wall until he recovered some semblance of dignity.
He strolled in to the Potions classroom and saw Hell reach out a concerned hand toward Potter, whose forehead rested on the table. Potter muttered something and Hell’s fingers withdrew, much to Pious’s satisfaction. He quelled the thought in annoyance. No he did not care who touched Albus Potter.
The other boy ignored Pious for the entirety of the lesson. Pious decided he was relieved. He did find it interesting when Potter completely botched a simple Luminescence Potion. Normally he could brew potions in his sleep. Pious smirked to himself when he realized that something must have disturbed Potter’s concentration. He wanted to confess to Bleys that he had kissed Albus, but his friend was completely focused on the stupid lesson. Bleys had been quite rabid about potions ever since infernal Potter had started tutoring him. Pious tried not to think about what other lessons Bleys and Potter had shared, even though Bleys had assured him that nothing had gone on other than the single kiss Pious had witnessed. Pious would reserve judgment.
When class ended, Potter threw his things together and tried to escape, but Pious quickly stepped in front of him, blocking the exit. The green eyes shot to his in alarm and Pious grinned before reaching out to splay a hand over Al’s chest. He felt a frantic heartbeat beneath his palm.
“See you in Charms, Potter,” he purred softly and felt the breath catch in his throat when a fine blush bloomed over Al’s pale cheeks. Pious could scarcely remember a time when Albus Potter had blushed. He had certainly never done so during Pious’s prior years of mauling. Normally he just snarled, shouted, or hexed him. The blush was new and quite enticing, actually. Pious suddenly wanted to kiss him again.
An elbow caught him sharply in the midsection as Al pushed by him and out the door. The slight pain did nothing to curtail the fine mood Pious found himself in. He actually hummed as he made his way to the Charms classroom.
~~- oOo -~~
Al fled like the hounds of Hades were at his heels. He could not escape to his own room—nowhere in the Slytherin dungeon was safe from the blond dementor. Al went instead to the Hufflepuff dungeon, raced through their common room to the dorm and threw himself on Hell’s bed.
His Hufflepuff friend came in moments later. Hell dropped to the edge of the bed and drew up his legs. “All right, Albus, spill it.”
Al buried his face in the pillow. How was he supposed to admit to his sudden insane attraction to Pious Malfoy? Al groaned.
“What has he done now?” Hell asked.
“Who?” Al mumbled, pretending stupidity. Hell smacked him sharply on the calf. “Ouch!”
“You know very well who. I’ve never seen you like this, Al, so what is it?”
Al felt terrible at the necessity of shutting out Hell. He settled for an abbreviated version of the truth.
“He’s doing it again, Hell. The damned touching thing. I have to stop it. I have to stop it tonight.”
“But the Devil’s Snare isn’t big enough, is it?”
Al sat up and faced Hell. “I’ve been thinking about that. Remember that Growth Charm your dad uses?”
Hell nodded. “Yeah, but it’s only temporary.”
Al laughed. “Exactly. A few hours are all I need. Do you remember the spell?”
“Of course. Dad makes me cast it every time Gran Gram comes over—to make the lawn look thicker.”
Al blinked for a moment. “No wonder your grass always looks like shit.”
“Yeah, it’s really bad on the lawn to keep doing it, but you know how he is around Gran…”
“Can you teach me?”
“Sure, but shouldn’t we get to class right now?”
Al shook his head. “Tell Flitwick I’m sick. I’m going to skive off classes for the rest of the day. Avoid Malfoy until it’s time to lure him in for the kill.”
~~- oOo -~~
Pious was annoyed by Potter’s cowardly reaction. How dared he pretend to be ill merely to avoid him? Pious had confronted Longbottom after Charms and demanded to know where the git had disappeared. Hell stammered some nonsense about Potter feeling sick and taking to his bed. What he meant was that Potter had apparently taken to Longbottom’s bed, because a search of Potter’s bed in the Slytherin dorm disclosed no Albus. Pious was indignant—not for the first time—that Potter had access to the other Houses whenever he wanted. He complained bitterly to Bleys.
“Pious, we’ve had this discussion at least seven dozen times. Yes, it’s bloody unfair that Albus is given the passwords to the other Houses; yes, it is quite annoying that he can come and go as he pleases; and yes, I believe he takes advantage of the fact mostly in order to irritate you. It seems to be working.”
“He’s skulking like a bloody frightened virgin just because I kissed him,” Pious gritted, giving vent to the aforementioned irritation.
“You did what?” Bleys gaped at him and halted in the hallway, nearly causing a group of first-years to run into him. The students parted around them like a school of nervous fish and hurried down the corridor. Most of them were well versed in the wrath of Malfoy and Zabini.
“He seemed to enjoy kissing you so I decided to give him a taste of someone better.” Pious tossed his head and grinned at Bleys’s continuing look of astonishment.
“And you’re still breathing? You don’t have boils, or chronic baldness, or testicles the size of grapefruit…?”
Pious sniffed. “I think he was overwhelmed with lust. He fled after Potions class and has not shown his face since.”
In fact, Pious was more than a little worried about the black-haired boy. Maybe Pious had gone too far this time and scared Potter away forever. Now that Pious had accepted the slight, miniscule possibility that he was maybe a trifling bit attracted to the git… Well, it simply wouldn’t do to have Potter spurning him without at least giving him the same chance he had Bleys. Even if that chance had been entirely faked. Pious scowled. He just wanted to talk to the prat.
“That’s a bit… frightening, actually,” Bleys said and continued walking. They had Care of Magical Creatures after lunch, a class Pious normally adored if only for the numerous opportunities to torment Potter.
“Frightening?” Pious asked and walked quickly to keep up with Bleys. Zabini had two speeds—slower than waiting for Polyjuice Potion to cure, or quick as a Seeker after a Snitch. Both had no rationale other than Zabini’s capricious moods.
“Of course frightening! Just because he hasn’t pulled any horrific pranks lately doesn’t mean he won’t. He told me he was considering a ceasefire, quitting his war against you. Now that you’ve gone and renewed your animosity, there is no telling what he will do!”
“What animosity? I don’t feel any animosity for Potter! I kissed him because I wanted to,” Pious protested innocently. For once he actually meant it.
Bleys stopped again and his dark gaze pieced Pious. “Does Potter know that?”
Pious looked away and wished he had never started the conversation. He was silent for long moments until Bleys made a sound of disgust and continued his ground-eating walk. “Be afraid!” Bleys called over his shoulder.
Pious was furious by the time he returned to the Slytherin Common Room after the evening meal. Potter had not shown his face once since their confrontation in Potions. A quick scan of the common room showed no Potter, so Pious continued into their dorm and yanked back the curtains on Potter’s bed. Empty.
Pious let out a frustrated breath and sat on his own bed. It was then that he noticed the envelope on his pillow. He snatched it and tore it open.
Malfoy, meet me by the statue of Pythagoras at 11 pm. We need to talk. Tell no one. AP
Pious crumpled the paper in his fist and then cast Incendio until even the ashes were gone and only a charred spot remained on the floor. No shit they needed to talk. What the fuck was wrong with doing so here and now? Pious had plenty to say to his absentee dorm-mate. In fact, he thought he might make a list. He had plenty of time before 11 pm. He considered telling Bleys despite Potter’s admonition, but he knew Bleys would simply go on about how he should not meet with an angry Potter in a deserted corridor in the middle of the night. Pious though he knew Potter quite a lot better than Bleys. He wasn’t worried.
PART EIGHT