The Crimson Sun Rising Behind Eden

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The sorting hat sat watching the students filter in with its creases for eyes. Although it had no mind, it did possess a magical intelligence, and it ruminated over a decision it’d made long ago.

Albus Dumbledore had been murdered… a man the hat had served for many a decade, and the hat felt quite certain – were he to speak to Dumbledore – that Dumbledore would agree with the hat on what must be done.

“Amore, Jezabel,” McGonagall called, her voice weary and wane like never before.

The hat watched the peculiar girl flounce towards him, her shimmering hair reflecting every pinprick of light. With the grace of a wizened unicorn she picked the hat up to sit down, before placing it on her head.

“New here, are you?” the hat whispered into her ear. “And such abilities you possess, such power… and you strive for power, don’t you?”

He heard a nervous giggle followed by almost being upset as she jerkily nodded.

“Well, as a wise man once told me… it is not what we are but what we wish to be that matters…” the hat murmured, hoping – as much as a hat could – that he was making the right decision. “Gryffindor!”

The girl flinched out from under the hat and stood for a moment, seeming to regale in the eruption of applause that filled the Great Hall.

Truly, he’d told her a bunch of malarkey… only wanting her to believe what would be best for everyone in the end.

“…Rasheid.” The hat switched its attention to McGonagall’s name calling and watched as another peculiar student approached.

Oh lordy, not another one, thought the hat.


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The willowy blond boy sat staring forlornly at the black haired witch. She was busy talking to Blaise of all people. Like that stupid nigger was more interesting or intelligent than him! [A/N: OMG RUDE! My cousin’s friend’s sister’s dog’s girlfriend is black!]

“Hey Pansy, your knickers are showing,” Draco called, even though they so weren’t.

He wished they were though.

“What?” Pansy squealed, craning her neck away from Blaise to view her skirt. “Shut up, Draco…”

She was rolling her eyes at him. Stupid cow.

Draco ignored the hot flash of anger at watching Pansy turn back to smile coyly at Blaise. He didn’t need her. He was a MALFOY, and Malfoy’s could have anyone they wanted.

His eyes slowly drifted to the new Gryffindor girl: Miss Amore.

Her beautiful flowing blonde hair called to him. It must be soft… like his mother’s silky tresses were. He wondered if her eyes were grey like his mother’s. He felt a strange sensation in his trousers as his eyes took in her perfect figure. God, she had curves in all the right places.

His mother would like this girl, he knew – even if she didn’t like any of the others that came around. This girl was perfect. And her blood status screamed to him as he watched her gracefully fork eggs into her mouth.

Pureblood.

Suddenly, Draco felt the strange sensation of being watched, like two hot cigarette burns to the side of his face.

He turned his gaze away from the beautiful pureblooded queen and found himself staring into a void of violet.

Draco was no faggot, but looking into Rasheid Van Hol Amore's eyes made a strange tingly sensation bloom inside his gut.

Such exquisite violet eyes! He had never seen eyes so beautiful. Exotic, enthralling, endearing and a million other words beginning with E.

“You’re staring at my sister,” the boy with the beautiful eyes said coldly.

If ice could form on words it surely would have crystallized in the air and driven its spiky point through Draco’s skull.

“Your sister?” Draco said, pretending to be oblivious.

“Yes, my sister. Don’t get any funny ideas about her… She is to remain pure until marriage, as per family tradition.”

Draco watched in horror as the violet-eyed boy took out a small black book, shiny golden letters, The Holy Bible, on the front.

The boy’s icy voice began in a thunderous boom, “Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor male prostitutes nor homosexual offenders nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God.”

“Er,” Draco muttered, his eyes going wide as the boy lifted those chilling violet orbs to his.

“Aren’t you a follower of the good Lord?” The Amore boy thumped his bible twice with his long, slender fingers.

“The Malfoy’s are agnostic,” Draco drawled haughtily.

Who was this person to think he could talk to a MALFOY in such a condescending manner?!?

“I see.” Amore’s nose wrinkled as if he smelled something unpleasant, and he carefully tucked his bible back inside his robes.

Draco grinned slyly, casting his eyes to the side as he asked in mock innocence, “What is your sister’s name?”

“Jezabel, and I’m Rasheid.” Rasheid’s tone remained neutral, and Draco frowned for failing to rile the boy.

Perhaps boy was the wrong word. Although Amore had soft facial features, prominent cheekbones, and feminine lips… he wasn’t scrawny or childlike. His robes may have been loose-fitting and modest, but Draco could tell that Rasheid was ripped like no other; akin to the sweaty, bloodthirsty wrestlers Draco had seen on a poster in Muggle London.

He smiled vindictively at the thought. Rasheid… his pureblooded status paralleled with the likes of a vile Muggle sport.

“We transferred from Beauxbatons,” Amore said, a hint of force to his tone.

“Weren’t good enough for the French?” Draco asked, smirking.

It didn’t matter if he insulted himself as long as he got a good jab at this Rash-ey bloke.

“An instructor came onto my sister,” Rasheid said pointedly, and Draco knew just the reason for his bringing up Beauxbatons at all. “I was forced to defend her honour.”

“Read bible drivel until he died of boredom?” Draco asked, gesturing with his hand towards the book’s hiding place.

“Let’s just say that he won’t ever be able to commit the sin of fornication,” Rasheid growled, his sharp white teeth glittering.

Draco shuddered and looked away. This guy was weird and creepy and totally cockblocking him. Arsehole.

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Rasheid ate quietly and contemplated the blonde sinner who sat before him. He felt confident that his words had resonated within the boy… especially if that sulky pout was anything to go by.

No one touched his sister. He understood their desire, certainly, as Amore’s were bred more finely than any other… even the ever popular Malfoy… and his sister was akin to Venus; the first star shining bright against a black void, fiery white and enthralling to gaze upon … She stood out from even the fittest women, making the plain hide their faces and the ugly shaky with fear.

His heart ached as he stared across the room at his twin sister. They had always been inseparable, even in the womb, and at his former school he had always been at her side. They’d eaten meals with one another, played Quidditch together, and even shared a bed from time to time. [A/N: Not like that! He just really, really, reallyyy loves her mmkay? He’s a Christian!!!]

Now, everything would be different. Hogwarts was worlds away from the elite French institution – boys and girls were separated in dorms and separated by House, even for something as absurd as mealtime.

He frowned as he thought of Jezabel so very far away from him... permanently, at least for the year.

Would she be cold tonight? Would she be safe?

He wouldn’t even be able to get to her if he needed to.

Suddenly he felt heat pricking his eyes. He shook his head quickly… it had to be a reaction to the Scottish air; France h2o was much purer and cleaner.

Maybe he needed to read a few more passages in the trusty good book. Spreading the word was important, even if others never understood. They were just intellectually challenged- corrupted by sin and teenage hormones.

Rasheid was above that, having a brain fashioned by the purest of blood – like inbred Dobermans. Although there was that one Mexican grandfather ... Jesus or something. He'd been a really great carpenter.

A boy like Draco would probably count that against him. The racist little prat. Rasheid couldn’t stand narrow minded people. They never felt the light of God, the caress of an angel, or the whisper of heavenly truth…

Sad, really.

A beautiful tinkling sound filled the air and Rasheid glanced up to gaze upon his laughing sister. She was talking to a strange green eyed boy with a scar. Truthfully he knew the boy’s name, but with the way Jezabel was flipping her hair over her shoulder and casting those purple-jade eyes at the git, he would soon only be known as The-Boy-Who-Was-Struck-Down-By-The-Righteous-Hand-Of-Rasheid.

He had sworn to God that he would protect his fragile, angel faced sister. She needed him too, most importantly, as she didn’t realise the effects she had on the primeval brained hooligans of the male species.

With a small sound of despair, Rasheid took out his bible and began reading over the passages of sinners being struck down by God’s mighty hand.

A booming voice echoed in his head, “Go to her tonight. Make sure she maintains her purity.”

“I will find a way,” he whispered to himself, burying his fingers into his long and silky, raven-coloured tresses.


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Draco was up to no good. Peering surreptitiously around the dark corner of the corridor, he slunk mischievously towards the Gryffindor common room.

That git Rasheid had bombarded him with more absurd religious literature, even going so far as to cage Draco in the corner of the common room to prevent him from making a hasty retreat.

And then, much to Draco’s complete shock and horror – Pansy had dared to make moon eyes at the Rashy bloke AND HE HAD SMILED AT HER.

Good lord, and not literally, as Draco couldn’t care less about some crazy figment of a loon’s imagination [A/N: If you couldn’t tell, Draco is just like he was in all the canon books --- racist and narrow minded!!!! He needs a good dose of the good word, huh?]…

But it all summed up to one thing:

Rasheid’s sister was hurtin’ for a squirtin’. His squirtin’ more specifically.

Draco was determined to get that Amore asshat back and fuck his sister six ways to Sunday. Maybe seven, if he didn’t chafe.

Of course there was always the chance that she might be as fanatic as her lame-o brother, but Draco doubted it. He’d watched her when Rasheid was busy reading and whispering oddly to himself. Something about sinners and God’s hand crushing scarface or something.

Whatever that meant.

But Jezabel hadn’t been reading any silly book or keeping her head bowed like a Saint. It didn’t matter that he’d mostly paid attention to her firm lady lumps, peaked nipples evident even from the far off distance. Her demeanor was obvious… the way she shook that sinfully blonde hair, the way she laughed – her smile open and bright and alluring …

“Hurtin’ for a squirtin’,” Draco whispered to himself, pressing the heel of his palm into his swelling groin.

“What are you doing out of bed, Mr. Malfoy?” a familiar, and cold voice asked.

Draco stood erect and stared at the Headmaster with a look of haughty disgust.

“Trying to get laid, sir.” He knew Severus well enough to be honest with him.

Knew him too well, really.

“What a coincidence,” Snape drawled. “As am I. If you’ll assist me…?”

Draco frowned, a little noise of exasperation escaping his throat.

“Must I? Last time you called me Lily and got all… emotional. Not to mention I think you tore something inside of me…” He hadn’t been able to make dukey for at least a week after that incident. “Worse than a rampaging troll,” he muttered softly.

“You misheard me,” Snape snapped. “And I only teared up because your elbow connected with my nose… If you are in pain you should learn to express it in words; really Malfoy, we evolved from apes long ago.”

Draco shook his head, sighing. “If I blow you will you let me go? I have a prior obligation to fill.”

“With whom?” Snape asked. “And yes.”

“That new girl, Jezabel Amore.” Draco let Snape steer him into an empty classroom before dropping to his knees.

“Ah, the transfer student.”

With clumsy hands Draco tugged at Snape’s robes, earning himself an angry hiss as a button clattered to the floor.

“Well if you’d help me!” Draco snapped, picking up the button to drop into Snape’s pocket. The git could repair the minor injury to his robes later, Draco had a job to do… and he wanted to get it over quickly.

“Doesn’t she remind you of anyone?” Snape asked suddenly, a hint of vindictiveness in his tone.

“No.” Draco waited as Snape’s large hands pulled open a gap in his robes, exposing a disappointingly flaccid piece of flesh.

This could very well take all night.

“Exotically beautiful… pureblood… blonde. Perhaps with maternal tendencies…” Snape whispered, grasping himself and beginning to pull.

Draco stiffened, unable to be grateful for the help with the procession of foreplay as he registered Snape’s words

“My jaw feels a bit wonky… It aches like it might snap shut at inopportune moments. Do you wish to continue?”

Snape snorted, his free hand coming to tangle in Draco’s shiny dove-coloured hair. “I wager ten galleons that I’ll have her before you do.”

Draco choked as his face collided with Snape’s dark mass of curly black pubes, and it wasn’t only the sour smell of unwashed male that made his gag reflect kick in.

“Because that’s all you can afford to lose,” Draco muttered, using his hand to force Snape’s hips back.

“Are we going to bicker all night, or are you going to blow me?”

Snape’s ugly red erection had finally formed, a glistening teardrop oozing from his piss slit. He always tasted slightly dirty, as if the Muggle in his veins permeated into other fluids --- ones not confined to blood.

Draco made a face as he opened his mouth and sucked Snape inside.

[A/N: Draco isn’t a faggot like mentioned earlier because Snape isn’t human. *shudder* So don’t get confused over icky dicky molesting poor young Malfoy. I’m so glad Snape got bitten by that beautiful snake – it was really fitting… Hell/the devil symbolism claiming the sinner.]

As he tried not to pay attention to Snape’s little grunty noises, which reminded him of baby piglets fighting over a fat sow’s teat, he ruminated over Snape’s expressed desire for Miss Amore.

It didn’t surprise him, truly – Snape had always been fond of things finer than himself. Purer. And if they weren’t willing to give him what he wanted he would take it. Draco used to feel sorry for himself at being the object subjected to Snape’s tool, but now he was only faintly resentful.

Snape had done an awful lot for him, and his family, after all.

Plus, not everyone could be as beautiful as Draco found himself to be. Some people did not have the advantage of being rich, alluring, and pureblooded.

No, poor Snape had to take what he’d never been privy to. And Snape rhymed with rape ... that alone said volumes.

More sharp squeals and a few shaky thrusts later, Draco squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on not choking. This part was always the worst, as Draco hated the thought of contaminated fluids being imbibed by his person.

“Swallow it, Malfoy,” Snape hissed, breaking off a moment from emitting animal noises.

Draco let his mind fill with thoughts of what Jezabel might taste like, and relaxed the muscles of his throat, before he gulped. Definitely not so quinine, but instead of sweetness… And what would she sound like? Not brutish like Snape, oh no. She’d sigh like a child being kissed by angels, and moan like the wind caressing the sea.

Purple butterflies swirled like a colourful tornado inside his chest, and he felt a bit dizzy, like he’d stood up too fast.

“Stop daydreaming,” Snape snapped, thwacking Draco in the skull with a row of bony knuckles.

“Very rude of you when I’ve just got you off,” Draco said, pushing Snape away from him.

Funny how ugly people were often without manners.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, although his mother always scolded him for it, Draco stood up and waited for Snape’s terse nod.

His heart lifted at the dismissal as the last time Snape had demanded that he stay and coddle. For bashing him in the nose, Snape had claimed, and he’d smacked Draco for calling it coddling.

Git.

“The password for their common room is ‘L-O-L cat’,” Snape said quietly as Draco moved towards the door.

He froze and turned to stare at the greasy haired man with wide eyes.

“Apparently a phenomenon found on some sort of Muggle machine…” Snape said slowly, shrugging. “McGonagall is rather partial to all things feline. Leave your tie, lest you blow the charade.”

“I’ve blown enough things tonight,” Draco called as he exited.

Though he was reconsidering his previous thoughts of Snape’s ‘gitness’. How convenient to have a quick way into the common room… that fat lady could be a real stinky cunt.

“One step, two step, three step, four,” Draco chanted as he made his way to the Gryffindor tower. “Pump a chump and nail her to the door.”

Merlin he was clever! And he giggled sadistically to himself as he pulled off his Slytherin tie, leaving it on the cobbled stone to retrieve it later.

The grotesque obese lady glared down at him with watery yellow eyes. “Why are you out at such an hour? And where is your tie?”

She rubbed her double chin with a plump goose-coloured hand, and Draco tried not to notice how everything jiggled with the movement.

Fat people were so gross and annoying – he didn’t understand why wizards hadn’t evolved enough to shoot them on sight.

No pureblooded woman had over 15% body fat. Muggles were the cause of such a sickness, and their leaked blood into the wizarding system was going to take them all down via heart disease and high blood pressure.

“L-O-L cat,” Draco said with a sneer. “It’s none of your bleedin’ business what I’m up to, either.”

The southern looking witch scowled at him sixty-nine times, waving a chubby finger from side to side. “Someone needs a good night’s rest, Mr. Grumpypants.”

God, was this lady retarded too? Ugly and stupid seemed to bleed together. She probably moaned like an orgasming cow when she ate fish and chips. [A/N: Isn’t that so gross when people make noises when they eat? EWW. But really, I’m not close minded like Draco! Fatties are God’s children too.]

Before he could answer her silly rambling, the portrait hole opened. He began to climb inside, his mind resuming his ever so clever rhymes – when something caught his eye. Glancing up quickly, Draco stopped and gasped.

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[A/N: OH WOW, WHAT DID HE SEE? Leave reviews if you love Jesus!]