The Malfoy Chronicles: A Witch in Time

Dawnangel you rock my socks as always. And 'Voldemort's nipple' came from an episode of Potter Puppet Pals called 'Wizard Swears'. It's on Youtube. You should watch it. It's awesome. Keep up the WONDERFUL reviews, and I'll be sure to add more smut!

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James stretched out on the bed, feeling much better after his nap and strangely erotic endeavor with Draca. She had wanted to see his most intimate parts. She hadn’t shied away when he came. Hell, she had cried out his name when she came!



Draca was still curled up beside him, although she had gone right back to sleep after their adventure. He smiled when she made a snuffling sound in her slumber. She was stunning when she was awake, and she was adorable when she was asleep. She snuffled again, and wrapped her arms tightly around James, hugging him like a sleeping toy. He gave a deep, pleased rumble, like a cat being stroked.



“James…” she murmured, much to his pleasure. Maybe she liked him after all. And she was such a wonderful young woman. Kind, brilliant, and drop-dead gorgeous.



James felt the pressure of nature calling, so he carefully disentangled himself from Draca’s arms. With her source of warmth lost, she curled in on herself, and snuffled. James leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek, grinning when she sighed softly.



~~



Draca stretched out languidly, feeling for the first time her loss of a snuggle-buddy. Apparently James was feeling better, because he had left her high-and-dry on the bed. With one last stretch, she rolled off the bed, and smoothed her clothes down. She ran her hands through her hair to smooth a few tangles, and silently cursed Sirius Black for being alive.



There was a strange silence throughout the house as she traveled downstairs. She walked into the family room, frowning when she saw Tobias lying on the couch, staring blankly up at the ceiling. He glanced over when she entered the room, and gave her a light smile.



“’Bias…what’s wrong, turtledove?” she asked softly, kneeling beside him on the sofa. His smile widened slightly at the use of her strange endearment.



“My dad just got back from a Meeting with the Dark Wanker.” He said, his gaze returning skyward. “He knows who we are. All of us, and he wants to have a little chat with me the next time the Forces are called together…” Tobias added, his dark brows furrowing.



“That’s terrible!” she gasped, and reached up to stroke a strand of dark hair from Tobias’ face. “What are you going to do?” she asked, running her hand over his forehead.



“I have to go. If I turn Him down, then he’ll take it out on my father. And…I kind of liked being born…” he sighed. “But if I go…what if he wants me to take the Mark? What if he wants me to participate? I know all of the things my father did. Hell, I’m proud of him. He was such an important part of the War. But to see it first-hand….” He said, his voice breaking.



Draca had never seen Tobias cry. But her dark friend broke down on the sofa, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, running down into his hairline. He sobbed quietly, trying to absorb the heaviness of the situation he was placed in. He couldn’t not go. Voldemort would blame his father…he couldn’t let that happen. But truth be told, he was terrified of the alternative. As dark as his nature was, he wasn’t sure if he could purposely torture or kill another person. He could defend himself against the likes of Sirius Black…but murder was not something he had ever planned on committing.



“Where’s James, turtledove?” she asked gently, still stroking Tobias’ pale face.



“Off ex-exploring the h-house…” Tobias hiccupped, and reached up to wipe his eyes.



“Do you want me to go get him?”



“No…just…d-don’t leave me….I’m…I’m scared….” He sobbed.



~~



Abraxas Malfoy was pissed. It had been two weeks since his sister and her friends disappeared from the school, and there was no lead whatsoever. He didn’t understand how three sixteen-year-old wizards could disappear from a highly guarded school of magic without leaving so much as an errant trail. It was impossible. And their little friend Pucey was no help at all. Something had happened to the boy, for he had been found in the bathroom of the Slytherin boys’ dormitory the same day they had been discovered missing, blubbering like a fool. He’d been shipped off to St Mungos for mental evaluation, and the school had yet to see the results.



He was not only pissed, but he was worried. His only sister was gods-knew-where, doing gods-knew-what. The only consolation he had whatsoever was that she was with James. And wherever she was, as along as James was with her he would never let anything happen to her.



He slammed his fists against the desk in his room.



“Damn them!” he cried, running his hands through his hair. “The stupid fools…what have they gotten themselves into?” he asked no one.



A firm knock at his bedroom door broke him out of his depressed stupor. “Who is it?” he called. His grandfather opened the door, and leaned in.



“The Ministry is about to send one last group into the Forest to check for clues. Would you like to join them? Your father and I will be there.” He said. Abraxas stood, and immediately grabbed the cloak on the back of his chair.



“Of course I’ll come!” he snapped.



~~



The group was quickly growing weary in the dark and dreary forest. They had searched for hours for any type of clue the would tell them where the three teens had gone, and if they had gone through the Forest on their way out.



Abraxas leaned against a tree, sweat pouring down his face. The air in the forest was dense and hot, and he was fairly boiling inside his own clothes. His spirits were falling, and he wanted something to eat. The last clue they had had that there had been human activity inside the forest was a small clearing a few miles from the school. There were small torches, and a fire pit. A few tracer spells discovered errant magic in the pit, and indication of magical fire. But since then the only thing they had seen were a few centaur arrows.



Just as Abraxas was about to give up and turn back, a glint of silver caught his eye. He cocked his head, and stepped gingerly towards a gnarled bush, his wand drawn should there be any trouble. He almost burst into tears when he saw what the item was. Draca’s silver locket lay just atop the spindly branches of the bush, its fine chain tangled. He raised his wand upward, and cast a blue beam of light, signaling to he rest of the group that he had found something.



He reached out to pick up the locket, and as soon as his fingers touched the cool metal, he felt a painful lurch in his stomach, like a violent Portkey. He felt like he had been thrown into the air, and he felt air rushing past his face, like he was falling.



He landed hard, a grunt forced from his lips. The breath had been knocked from him, and he had to lay still for a moment until he regained his breath. He dragged himself to his knees, and looked around blearily. Somehow he had ended up right outside the gates of Hogwarts. Hmm…curious. He looked down at the locket in his hands. Something didn’t feel right around him. When he had entered the forest, it had been hot and stifling August weather. Now the air, while still warm, held a summery breeze. He shrugged off the strange feeling, and pushed through the gates of Hogwarts, determined to find his father and find out what the hell was going on…



A slightly younger-looking Filch met him halfway, sneering at the young blonde.



“What business have you at Hogwarts?” he asked sharply.



Abraxas looked at the locket again. Perhaps Headmaster Denebola could tell him was wrong with the stupid locket.



“I need to see the Headmaster.” He said.



“Headmaster Dumbledore hasn’t yet returned for term.” Filch replied.



“Dumbledore? Have you been drinking, you old curmudgeon? Dumbledore’s dead.” Abraxas said, sending Filch a strange look.



“My alcoholic tendencies has naught to do with you, young man. And don’t be daft. Dumbledore’s old, but he ain’t dead yet.” Filch snapped. Abraxas cocked his head sharply.



“What…what year is it?” he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.



“It’s August of ’95, boy. Have you been drinking?” Filch said nastily. Abraxas felt very light-headed suddenly, and pressed his palm to his forehead.



“No. Umm…thank you…I have no more business here. I’ll go.” He said, and turned back on the path, walking back to the gates of the school.



“Holy shite….what have they gotten me into?”

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Uh oh! They have another visitor to the past! This should be interesting...