G.S.C. (draco_a_malfoy) wrote in partisan_green, @ 2007-09-04 14:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic |
Fic: Of chess, wine, snuff-boxes and kisses -R
Ok, this community is too empty: it’s time to start posting some fiction, perhaps!
Title: Of chess, wine, snuff-boxes and kisses
Pairing: Severus/Draco, of course, and minor Lucius/Narcissa, I suppose
Rating: R (or Pg-13?)
Word Count: about 2300
Summary: Chess, wine, snuff-boxes and kisses –and sex on a table. Set in “Alchemy of soul” (wip, prologue will be posted soon, I hope) universe. But this can stand alone
Disclaimer: I’m not J.K. Rowling but I’m quite happy with my life this way.
Warnings: Tons of inanities. Sort of DH spoilers. References to previous use of necromancy. Written for the </a></strong></a>bbtp_challenge
Beta: smilencheer
Of chess, wine, snuff-boxes and kisses
Como el otro, este juego es infinito.
-J. L. Borges-
It was cold. Snow kept falling, silently, smoothly and everything he could see from the windows was white and frozen. He loved winter with all his soul. The fire in his mother’s parlour fireplace, was still crepitating but was somewhat lower, its light reddish, warmer and more caressing, its smell pleasantly pitchy.
They were playing chess. They occupied two identical armchairs at the opposite sides of the small table in front of the Louis Philippe couch looking at the monumental fireplace. Yet they were so near, meditating on the chessboard, that their foreheads almost touched.
Severus was still too pale.
- Should I pour you some elf made wine? You look tired.- Draco said, lifting his eyes to meet the other’s dark ones.
- It would be very appreciated, thank you. - his voice was still deep and rich, like before, but now, there was something calmer, accomplished, even more bewitching- But you could just call over a house elf and make your move. – he paused. - I’m waiting.
Draco stood.
- It’s late.
He waved his hand and two glasses appeared. He took a long-necked crystal bottle, half-full of blood red liquid, from a little cabinet in a corner of the room. He put both glasses on the table, in front of Severus, and while pouring the thick wine he could feel the man’s breath on his cheek; he knew that his now long, untied hair was touching the other’s shoulder. He sat beside him, on the couch’s nearest end, and smiled, bringing the glass to his lips.
- Don’t you want to finish our game, Draco?
- Drink, sir, it will warm you.
Severus was caressing a black bishop between his fingers.
- So it’s “sir” now, again.
Draco’s goblet exploded in his hand. He was pale and utterly furious.
- I-I don’t understand you, Snape, I just don’t. I spied for you, I stayed in that damn castle to keep an eye on Potter and try to save his stupid Gryffindor arse because you loved his mother, and yet I did. I did stay. And you were dying, bloody hell, Severus, dying! Because you had been here when I needed you, because I needed you, I still need you, you were the only thing that kept me from falling apart. I brought you back from the death’s land, for heaven sake, because I love you, and I believed that it meant something for you, that when you kissed…You told me that it was improper, then. You told me that we couldn’t. – Draco stood, in rage and shame and something he could not register- And now you behave like nothing has happened and you were just a family friend that this fucking idiot of a boy resurrected to have a guest at Christmas dinners and someone to play chess until late at night! I just don’t get you! You don’t tell me anything anymore! I thought we were friends, at least. Or maybe I’m wrong! How could you have trusted a child…. It was all a lie, then, wasn’t it? Just to keep me where you wanted me!
- Please, sit.
- Do not tell me what to do!-
The slapping sound was sharp and clear, it covered the dying fire crackling. Severus’ head was turned by the force of it, the black bishop lay reversed on the carpet, forgotten, and Draco himself looked incredulous at his hands, twisting them in a nervous spasm.
- I’m so sorry… I don’t…- he babbled, almost sobbing. - Draco, please, calm down. – Severus’ voice was deep and slow, without a trace of anger, even though the red mark of Draco’s hit was already visible on his cheek, something that resembled tenderness in his eyes, and understanding – Come here.
And the boy advanced since he stood so close to Severus that their legs were almost entwined. He had regained some composure.
- Talk.
- I’m sorry. Forgive me, if you can.
And Draco sighed, and something melted in his chest. He bent over to touch his abused cheek, and Severus closed his eyes, giving way to that gentle caress. Then Draco launched himself at his chest, hugging him so tight that he couldn’t breathe, the blond head drowning in the black weave of his gown.
- I missed you so much!
- I know- and he was caressing Draco’s fine hair, Draco’s smooth jaw, Draco’s flawless skin.
The boy sat practically in his lap. Now he straightened, so their heads were at the same level, noses touching. They were staring in each other eyes.
- Yet, I have to correct you about one point, Mr. Malfoy: Lily was my best friend, she always will be, in a way.
Draco’s hand were burning on his shoulders, his arms as heavy as an unbreakable lead seal around his neck; his own arms kept desperately hold of the boy’s waist.
- Did you love her?
- Yes, but I would have never dreamt of doing this.
The kiss was sweet, inebriating, their lips bitter with wine. At first barely a touch, then something more promising, and then Draco wasn’t thinking anymore, wrapped around Severus and in his arms, and he didn’t think he could say where one ended and the other began. His heart pulsed with maddened joy in his chest.
-Your parents?
-Asleep.
- May I kiss you again?
Severus’ skin was feverish under Draco’s insinuating, teasing fingers, brushing against his neck, under his collar, imperceptibly unbuttoning and caressing. He waited.
- Yes- whispered Draco in his hear, his warm breath tickling the lobe. Severus flushed.
The kiss was more passionate than the first, there was a renovated urgency in it, more tongue, and teeth and holding to not let go. Draco found himself laid flat with his back on the low table, Severus’ weight solid and reassuring on top of him. He almost laughed when Severus started unbuttoning his castigating high collar robe, revealing his long, pale neck, burning lips on the eburnean flesh. He sighed when the robe was opened and hanged a moment on his half-bare shoulders, and he stayed there, sustaining himself on his elbows, half-laying on the table, contemplating this man who looked at him with unreadable piercing eyes like he was the most precious thing in the world. He trembled at the happy squeaking in some place that was not his stomach and yet more profound than his heart, he didn’t know he had. Severus noticed.
-Are you cold?
- No, just inexperienced in this matter.
- Are you telling me that you went on your Grand Tour and you didn’t..?
- You know, told Grand Tour being an excuse to find a way to resurrect you… I had two possibilities: bury myself among quite revolting yet very useful books or find someone who’d shag me into oblivion, which would have been far too cheap for me, anyway.- he grinned, a sense of superiority, affection and something resembling the Slytherin version of loyalty shining in his expression. – I’m a Malfoy, by the way.
Severus kissed his chest lightly, just above his racing heart, tender skin throbbing . He kissed his smirk and then kissed the smile it had become.
- Thank you, for everything
Draco silenced him and smiled, mysterious and somehow promising.
- Don’t worry about that now. By the way, are you cold?
- Quite the contrary, I suspect.
- Shall we do something about that, shan’t we?
The third kiss was slower and calmer, and confident, yet solid like an oath, and they continued to disrobe each other silently. The fire was still low and red; the chess pieces fallen on the floor lay there like a dismissed army on a fest day. They shone like rough rubies.
~*~
Lucius Malfoy was an eccentric man. He preferred describing himself as peculiarly passionate, because in his not always so lucid opinion, “eccentric” was démodé since 1940. Too decadent.
Therefore, conciliating necessity and his esthetical tendencies, since the second war had ended, he had invested time and attention into the renovation of his character toward a general appearance of (almost) honest stability and liability. He congratulated himself on this postmodernist snobbism against post-modern, uncertain times. He had even tried to read Lyotard to Draco, but he hated remembering his own failures. Yet he had made painful sacrifices, such as that time he could not re-decorate his study in a more Muggle-friendly way with pre-Raphaelite paintings because Narcissa had said they were too subtly ambiguous. Not that he minded this Giorgione fellow Aunt Berenix had sent him from
Yet, a man has to get his pleasure too. During his ethnologic studies about Muggles he had realised that this taking snuff thing was quite recherché and had a certain aura of credibility. Perfect. And then he had fallen in love with snuff-boxes: little, accurate, precious artefacts, they were. He had gathered a whole collection, and he had felt proud of this political change of his, finally. Fascinating things indeed.
That night he couldn’t sleep; he had tried to engage conversation with Narcissa, but he had to admit that talking profusely about cousin Lupus’ diagnosed cirrhosis at 2:00 a.m. was not the wisest idea, especially if your sleepy wife was not a patient woman.
So he had found himself wandering from corridor to corridor, and he was about to retire in one of the guest bedrooms when he remembered that he had left his favourite snuffbox somewhere between his study and the nearest parlour. He could have a glass of wine with Draco and Severus, if they were still awake, arguing on the chess game result, as usual. They even seemed particularly noisy tonight.
- Draco, did you see my Georgian snuffbox, son?- said he, entering.
Lucius Malfoy was not stupid, a bit thoughtless, sometimes, maybe, but not stupid at all. Yet it took a moment or two for him to register Draco’s low-pitched moans and Severus even lower responding growl and to understand what was happening on the table.
- No, evidently. Bad timing, I suppose. Maybe later- he responded to himself and returned to his
bedroom without a noise.
He was profoundly perplexed.
- Cissy, darling, can I ask you a question?- murmured he, tucking their sheets.
He received a snort in response.
- Do you think that it’s plausible that our dear, old friend Severus is… copulating with our son in the living-room, right now?
-Not on my sofa, I hope.
-No, on the table.
- Thank Merlin. Goodnight, Lucius.
- ‘night, sweetheart.
~*~
- You know, I think I came to like this “being alive again” condition, very much, indeed.- whispered Severus on Draco’s neck, moving to kiss his jaw.
- You know, I think you came. – giggled he, looking at him with brilliant eyes.
- How rude, my boy, how rude.
They kissed again. They were laying together, still on the table, sweaty all over, Severus’ head resting on Draco’s shoulder, Draco’s hand caressing Severus’ chest like he was petting a big cat, all heavy breathing and interwoven ankles. Draco had just brightened the fire by a wave of his hand.
- You’re good at wandless magic.
- Seventh year- was all he said. He paused, closing his eyes – I still dream about the moment we found you.
- I’m sorry. I suspected that it would finish that way. I didn’t want you to get involved with me. And yet, you got anyway, you stupid boy.
Draco smiled, staring at him, at his profile in the golden light, and he found him breathtakingly beautiful, even if Severus Snape had never been a beautiful man. Powerful, captivating, but not beautiful. Yet for Draco he was the most beautiful being he had ever seen, absolutely beautiful in so many more aspects than just a pretty face.
- This stupid boy brought you back, you ungrateful git. You should be proud of me.
- Oh, I am. I’m proud, and grateful and so much more…
Severus was lying half –atop of him now, their foreheads touching, Draco’s fingers exploring his face absently.
- I think your father stopped by, asking about some foolish stuff of his.
Draco giggled on his lips. – Well, not even he is so unobservant! Not that I was in the position to notice or care, was I? It would be wise to retire, anyway. - and he hesitated. – I know it would be improper but … might I spend the night with you? I could sleep on the armchair! – he hurriedly added.
Severus rose and helped him up, squeezing his hand.
– Shut up with nonsense and move your lazy arse, I don’t want to freeze to death. – he said and Draco gathered their robes in his arms.
- You were quite fond of my arse. I repeat: you ungrateful brute.
He ignored him: – And I’ll try to fix this mess…
Severus concentrated and waved his right hand slowly: broken glasses recomposed, spilled wine disappeared, fallen chess pieces returned to the chessboard neatly lined up, like two armies before the battle.
- Not bad for a first timer.- smiled the boy.
- I could say the same about you.
- Who’s rude now?- but he was staring at the chessboard, intently. The pieces moved, disposing themselves as they were when the game had been interrupted. – We will finish that tomorrow. Shall we go?
Severus nodded and they withdrew, shoulders brushing. The elegant elf-made wine bottle floated behind their backs.
- Why are you bringing that along?- a dark eyebrow rose.
- For later, of course.
- You’re insatiable, Malfoy. You really are!
- I’m twenty, darling. And the night is still young… and, before you start commiserating with yourself, so are you; therefore no excuses.
Severus laughed and he felt ten years younger.
- Severus, where did you go on your Grand Tour?
- Nowhere, Draco. I simply didn’t go.