Dark as my Intentions

Usual disclaimer applies: I do not own nor make any money from anything from the realm of JK Rowling's imagination - Hogwarts, Dumbledore, Harry Potter, Snape, etc I DO NOT own. I do claim ownership of my protagonist though. I DO NOT claim ownership of the lyrics that have been interspersed in the story - they are by Maria McKee and their source is cited beneath the lyrics. I do highly recommend readers of this story to give Ms. McKee's music a try though.

Turns out I had an idea or two more for this story, hence the addition to it.

Half Life

Another night. The light of another moon. This night the moon was full – like a watchful face peering down, watching my every step. I tread the hallways with a careful step, allowing the light to recede in my wake. I was drawn as if by a magnet towards that which I should not desire. If the headmaster knew where I was going, he would surely intervene. If it were so very forbidden, he would intercede.

The energy around the dormitories was different: thick, cloying and also almost pulsing with the life within – the possibilities, dreams yet to be dreamt, knowledge yet to be hungered for. I slipped past the fat lady. She had nodded off and her head was tipped so far forward that her painted chin rested on her chest. She reverberated with snores that seemed much too powerful to be coming from mere canvas and colour. I murmured the password and the frame swung open. I glided through the common room, now cold and desolate, the fire having long since died out. Only the silvery cinders gave testimony that there had once been warmth and companionship there. I slipped up the stone stairway into a chamber with beds that were resplendent in red and gold silks. Those rooms had changed very little from one generation to the next, over hundreds of years. Boys still left their discarded robes in untidy heaps on the floor. I picked the robe up, dusted it off, and draped it along the foot of his bed. I pulled a silken side curtain up and away so I could see the object of my fascination. I cast my eyes over the sleeping form of the boy who lived.

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“Wanted to make you into a demigod
Superhuman so you’d never die
Die to me, my golden boy
I was so in awe of you...”
“Human” by Maria McKee from the album “Life is Sweet” (1996)

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His face was ashen in the moonlight, the scar seeming fierce against that white skin. He must have been dreaming again – those dreams that were one of the worst-kept secrets at Hogwarts. His eyes seemed to have a life of their own beneath the translucent lids. The lashes fluttered and then lay sootily along the uppermost curve of his cheek. His glasses and wand had been cast aside on the bedside table. Curious, my hand reached out towards that tangle of untidy, dark hair. I traced that scar with one cool fingertip, feeling the rise of flesh there, as defined as an embroidery stitch. He did not shrink away from my touch. I looked at that lightning bolt in fascination. He had been marked by death but had still lived. My other hand rose to my throat to feel the marks from so long ago. I, too, had been marked but I had been resigned to a half life ever since. This one had cheated death; I had not and had, instead, joined with death. He was saved by old magic; I was betrayed and destroyed by a form of old magic. His flesh was so warm, my entire hand felt as if it were being seared by a flame. I snatched my hand away and looked at it, but it was still pale and thin, unmarked. I would have liked to have given him kisses. But, he was a student, an untouchable. I could not risk igniting Dumbledore’s anger. Besides, the boy would have challenges enough in the time to come. In time, there might be a chance for kisses, when he was no longer an untouchable. I turned away, letting the silk panel flutter to a close around him. As I crossed the room, I gave one sidelong glance towards another bed where a coppery head was disappearing beneath the blankets.

The fat lady was still asleep when I left, her head thrown back as she made high whistling noises like a boiling teakettle. I drifted down the hallways with their furtive ghosts and strange echoes, down deeper and deeper, drawn inextricably to the dungeons.

********

“...My scarlover
Ugly inside of me taught me of beauty I wouldn’t trade that work of art
For all the silk of perfect skin...”
“Scarlover” by Maria McKee from the album “Life is Sweet” (1996)

********

I slid between door and jamb, as before. The wards fell around me, making the tinkling sound of a hundred ringing bells, as I gained trespass. The ringing was but only in my head. I was again struck by the wide sweep of moonlight flooding through the windows. Black iron bars criss-crossed those panes of glass now – not to keep its occupant inside but to keep others, outsiders, from gaining entry. I felt a cruel little smile curve on my lips. Since my last visit, when I had kissed him so sweetly, he had become increasingly suspicious, almost nervous. His long, smooth fingers were forever at his throat, gingerly touching where I had marked him. He would close his eyes, thinking and plotting. It would almost distract him from his potions. Then, on the verge of distraction, he would lash out at his students, berate them for imagined slights, out of frustration.

This night, his face seemed to be carved out of cold, impersonal bone. Flat, expressionless, and yet mesmerizing. His hair had fallen across his face, and I slid my fingertips along the curve of his cheek. The flesh was cool, like marble. He was impassive and lost in sleep, and I was held in sway of his cool beauty. I could feel his heart beat, the rush of blood through his veins, and I could hear that heart beat like a distant drumming that was growing ever so louder. It was intoxicating, drawing me into its dizzying rhythm. My pulse quickened to match his, and my breath caught in my throat. I could imagine the fierce pounding of his heart against mine as I lay pressed against him. I could imagine unwinding him from his pale sheet, unwrapping him like a gift. But, instead, I was rooted to my spot beside his bed, one hand still barely touching his cheek. I brought my hand to his throat, to my handiwork. The marks stood out against that white flesh as if I had branded him. They were healing slowly. I touched each with a fingertip. A drop of blood welled up on each. I skimmed one with my finger and drew the finger into my mouth. Sweet and bitter all at once. I took the other drop and traced across his lower lip. The scarlet mark stood out against his white skin like a tribal marking. This night, the sheet was wound only around his waist and legs. The muscles of his chest were carved in high relief; the nipples like flat coins. His arms were at his sides, the muscles gently straining and a delicate tracery of veins, ice-blue, mapping the flesh. On one lean arm, I could see the imperfection of the dark mark. The death’s head with the undulating serpent. Sinister and intriguing. I wondered again why I was so drawn to this one. Was it because he had fallen and then been redeemed? Or, I cast my eyes to the mark etched on his arm, was there a tenuous link between us, drawing me nearer and nearer to him, because we were both marked, both tainted? I traced the mark gently and he hissed, baring his teeth slightly. A tear slid down his cheek, and I caught it on a nimble fingertip. If only I could taste the salt of all of his tears, kiss them all away. Before I knew what I was doing, my lips were moving across his cheek, the column of his throat. The beat of his heart had reached a frantic pace – surely a human could die from such a relentless beating of the heart. But it was better than the relentless breaking of a heart, I thought. I choked in a sob, as I felt a sweet and gentle yearning gnawing within me. I pressed my lips to the mark, his wound. Then, a cold hand was clasped around my wrist. I lifted my head and saw flashing onyx eyes.

“Who are you?” He demanded.

“...I used you to test my aim and precision
I was good, so good I was close to perfection but you turned the blade on me
And I loved it...”
“Scarlover” by Maria McKee from the album “Life is Sweet” (1996)