Mama Deb (mamadeb) wrote,
Mama Deb

Story Take II

I'm calling it " Pet".


Spoilers for movie.

I should have ducked into a classroom when I heard his stride. He walked like he owned Hogwarts. He walked like he owned... And when I heard those footsteps, my pride - my damnable, foolish pride, would not let me hide.

My pride, and something else. I waited, leaning against the wall. His robes swirled around his legs, echoing the anger in his face. He stopped.

"Oh, my. It's my pet." Malfoy smiled just enough, but his eyes still flashed. "That Potter brat cost me my elf. Is that what Stumbledore lets you teach the children, Severus?"

His voice cut through me. I was eleven again, and he was prefect; I was thirteen and he was Head Boy. I tried not to take a deep breath. I smiled back. "Oh, no. Now who'll perform that Narcissa will not? Elves can afford to be...picky these days."

He leaned closer. He smelled of mint and snow, even on this hot summer's day. He brushed the back of his fingers against my cheek. "As you once did, pet?"

"You only thought I was your pet, Malfoy." I jerked my head back, away from his touch. "You were my way in."

He laughed. I stopped my fists from clenching at the sound as it cut me to ribbons. "Oh, sweet pet. Pretty pet." He stroked my hair. "Pity. I did prefer this long." Which was why I'd chopped it off when I could. "You followed me into the Dark Lord's service. You followed me everywhere."

I slid away against the wall. "Do not touch me, Malfoy. I am not that same boy you terrorized. I am a teacher at Hogwarts. I am the Head of your son's House." I reached for shreds of dignity.

"I know. I put you there. I knew you would teach my boy what it is to be Slytherin, as I taught you. You *are*, are you not? Pet?"

"I am teaching your son what it is to be Slytherin." A lesson his father never truly learned.

Malfoy put his hands, cold and heavy, on my shoulders. He smiled, and my blood froze and boiled. "I knew I'd chosen wisely. See that you repay my trust, Severus." Before I could free myself from his grasp, he pulled me forward and pressed his lips to mine.

They were hard and forceful. To my disgust, my traitor hand, instead of pushing him away, began stroking his hair. Passion and loathing warred inside me, causing my stomach to roil with nausea at the same moment my arousal grew.

He let go and stood back. My hand dropped to my side. "You will always belong to me, my pet."

With that, he turned and, his cloak swirling around his legs, he strode down the corridor. I watched him go.

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