A Song for Severus ~ (Not Update, but Edit)

Chapter 4 ~ History and Dark Plans

Panting heavily, Draco dropped to the mattress, pulling Malina down and spooning around her slender, naked body, kissing her neck and shoulders appreciatively.

The witch shuddered against him slightly. Gods, he’d done it to her again…and again, she loved it. As she lay there, she remembered the first time she’d met Draco, in the music shop she occasionally worked in when she needed extra galleons.

Draco had walked in, immaculately dressed in Slytherin green robes, his father’s emerald and platinum ring on his finger, and silver-tipped cane in his hand. He walked up to the counter where Malina was busily counting some new discs. She looked up at him.

”Can I help you?” she asked the wizard politely.

Draco’s gray eyes washed over the witch. She was slim and pale, with short black hair and expressive dark eyes. Her mouth was small and full. She wore black lipstick. Malina looked quite dark. Draco liked dark.

“Yes. I’d like to purchase ‘The Black Cauldron’ album by Dirty Magic,” he replied, arching one eyebrow at the witch.

Malina put down her quill and walked around the counter.

“The Dirty Magic section is this way,” she said walking down an aisle that had albums on shelves, Draco following, watching her as she walked. Malina wasn’t dressed in robes but in a black, short-sleeved blouse, black stretch denims and black trainers. On one pale arm she had a tattoo of a rose with a single thorn, a drop of blood on its point and a small pool of blood beneath it.

She stopped in front of a section of albums and began thumbing through it, Draco standing behind her.

“The Black Cauldron?” she asked over her shoulder.

”Yes,” replied Draco, stepping a bit closer, intruding in the witch’s space.

Malina found the album, spun around and found herself almost face to face with Draco. Malina was tall, at least five foot nine. Draco was six foot tall.

“Here’s your album,” she said, trying to step back a bit, but there wasn’t much room because of the shelves of albums.

Draco smiled and slowly took the album out of her hand. He looked at it a moment, then at her.

“Thank you,” he said, his gray eyes resting on her with interest. Malina slid sideways and walked back to the counter, Draco smirking after her. He walked up to the counter and slid the album across it. Malina took it.

“Will that be all, sir?” she asked him.

Draco studied her for a moment.

“What is your name?” he asked the witch.

“Malina,” she replied.

“Malina,” Draco repeated, “That is a very pretty name. I only need one more thing…” he said to the witch. “For you to accompany me to lunch.”

The witch looked at the pureblood, rather shocked. He was handsome, but not her type of wizard at all. He was obviously aristocracy, blonde-haired, cultured. It was easy to see they moved in different circles. They had nothing in common.

“I’m afraid not,” she said, lowering her eyes and ringing up his purchase.

Draco scowled. Witches rarely declined his invitations. They always jumped on them. He was good-looking and rich. Witches loved him.

“Why not?” he asked her.

Malina looked at him.

“By the way you’re dressed, I assume you’re a pureblood with a pedigree,” Malina said to him.

Draco nodded.

“Well, I’m a muggle-born. A poor one. We have nothing in common,” she said.

Draco looked at Malina. A muggle-born? So what? She was lovely.

“I don’t agree with you. We do have something in common. You’re a witch and I’m a wizard. We are…compatible,” he said with a bit of a purr.

Malina looked at him. It was easy to see what the handsome wizard wanted. Pussy. By the look of him, he probably got plenty. Well, she knew how to make him back off.

“You make it a habit of openly dating mudbloods, sir?” she said, shocking Draco at her use of the derogatory term. “Or are you one of the enlightened purebloods that sprung up after Voldemort’s death…the type that claims ‘parentage doesn’t matter,’ and tries to prove your tolerance by bedding muggle-born witches at every opportunity?”

Ouch.

“Parentage is the last thing on my mind when I meet a lovely witch,” Draco replied evenly.

Now Malina arched an eyebrow at him as she accepted his money and bagged the album.

“Oh. So what is the first thing?” she asked him.

“Getting to know her,” he responded, “Preferably over a meal.”

Malina handed him the bag.

“Well, I’m sorry Mr…” she began

“Draco. Draco Malfoy,” Draco said by way of introduction.

Malina cocked her head at him.

“Well I’m sorry, Draco. We are not allowed to fraternize with the stores’ patrons,” she lied. “It could cost me my job. Good day and thank you for shopping at the Music Symposium.”

And she dismissed him…just like that.

Draco exited the store, frowning. She had turned him down because he was a pureblood. Reverse discrimination at the least. The witch thought he just wanted to bed her. Well, she had been right about that…but still it rankled Draco that she turned him down cold. He didn’t believe for one minute that her job prevented her from going out with him.

Draco was a young man used to getting what he wanted. Now that his father and mother were securely domiciled in Azkaban, he was the Lord of the Manor. He had no problems getting witches. All he had to do was invite them to dinner and they all jumped. Landing Draco would mean a life of luxury. Even if he had been ugly as sin, he would have still had his pick of witches.

But Malina wasn’t impressed by his wealth or standing. As much as he liked to be admired, something about that appealed to the dark wizard. If he could win a witch like that over, he could be sure it wasn’t his wealth that attracted her. It would be him.

Malina would be a challenge, and Draco needed something other than his work for the Order to challenge him, take up his thoughts and his time. Bedding willing witch after willing witch became tiresome. They all ran together. Not one stood out.

Malina neither looked nor acted like any of the women he was involved with. Something radiated from her…something deep. He could tell she had substance. She certainly had heart, the blatant way she addressed him. She didn’t show him deference because he was aristocracy. He believed she talked to him as she would have any randy wizard. He liked that. It was different.

Draco decided right then and there he would try and win the witch over.

When he next visited the Music Symposium, Malina wasn’t there. A smiling blonde witch was behind the counter, and she made it quite clear she found him attractive.

”How can I help you, sir?” she asked him, leaning over the counter so her ample cleavage showed. Draco had no doubt he could take the witch to the back of the store and fuck her if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to. He was here for Malina.

“I’m looking for a witch that works here by the name of Malina,” he said to the clerk, his eyes washing over her cleavage for a moment. It was rather nice…

“Oh. Malina isn’t a regular employee. She only comes in now and then, mostly to cover when someone is out,” the clerk replied.

So the witch had been lying to him. She didn’t work here enough for her job to be in jeopardy. The minx.

“I see. Does she have another place of employment?” he asked her.

The clerk looked thoughtful.

”Not that I know of. She earns her money doing back-up singing on albums. She’s at the studio most of the time, I think,” the witch said, eyeing Draco.

“That wouldn’t happen to be the ‘Aria-Bolis’ studio in Hogsmeade would it?” Draco asked her. That studio was one of his family’s many holdings. It was the only local music studio in the area.

”Actually, it is,” the clerk replied, smiling at the wizard and fluttering her eyes.

“Thank you…you’ve been quite helpful,” Draco said, lifting the witch’s hand and kissing it. She looked as if she were going to orgasm. Yes, he could have done anything he wanted with her. Unfortunately for the clerk, his imagination and libido had been taken over by Malina.

Taking advantage of his position, Draco had his solicitor contact the studio and told them Lord Malfoy was to be contacted whenever the back-up singer, Malina was on the premises. And they were not to let the witch know or else heads would roll. This threat was taken quite seriously.

The moment Draco received word Malina was there, he apparated to the studio. After checking several sound booths, he found the one Malina was working in. The witch was helping the engineers do a sound check and was behind the glass wearing headphones and singing when Draco walked in. The wizard stopped, completely smitten by her voice, deep, sensuous…beautiful. Draco watched spellbound as Malina sang and when she finished, he had to take a deep breath. He’d been holding it.

The engineer nodded at Malina, and she removed her headphones and exited the booth.

“Got it, Charlie?” she asked the engineer.

“Yep. Thanks, Malina. You know…you should record a song of your own here. You’d be a bloody hit,” the engineer said to her.

“I’m not star material, Charlie…you know that. I don’t want fame. I want peace,” she responded. Then she looked up and saw Draco who was staring at her.

Shocked, Malina stared back at him. What was Draco Malfoy doing here? She asked him.

“This studio is one of my holdings. I was just doing a walk-through,” he lied.

“Oh, I see. The boss man checking up on his investment,” Malina said, walking past him and out of the door. Draco followed her.

“You have an amazing voice,” Draco said, ignoring her little barb, “I’ve never heard anyone sing so beautifully. You are very talented.”

“Thank you,” Malina said, steadily walking down the hall. She stopped outside a door and looked at Draco, who also stopped.

“I have a session. No one is allowed in,” she said.

Draco knew full well he could enter any session he wanted. But it was obvious the witch didn’t want him standing about, so he didn’t press the issue.

“How about that dinner?” he asked her.

Malina shook her head.

“I’m not interested in getting to know you better, Lord Malfoy,” she said, emphasizing the “Lord.” “I’m not interested in dating the son of known Death Eaters.”

”Now wait a minute,” Draco said, his eyes darkening with anger. “You can’t judge me by my parents. I’m not my parents.”

”They raised you, didn’t they? You must have their beliefs,” Malina said to him.

“I have my own beliefs,” Draco said.

Malina blinked at him.

“Let me see your left forearm,” she said.

Draco frowned at her. His Dark Mark was there.

“No,” he said, scowling.

“That’s what I thought. You’re a Death Eater too,” she said. “But of course you have too much influence to be locked away like you should be. How many muggles and muggle-borns like me have you watched die?”

Draco reacted before he knew what he was doing. He grabbed Malina by both arms and shook her, his eyes wild.

“You know nothing about that! Nothing about the horrors I’ve had to helplessly stand by and watch! Why do you think I am NOT like my parents! I may have the mark, Malina…but I do not have the soul of a Death Eater…” he hissed at her.

Malina’s eyes went wide with terror at Draco’s sudden violence…then he calmed, realizing what he had said, what he was doing. He released her.

“I’m going to have to obliviate you,” he said quietly, “no one can know what you know about me.”

”Why?” she asked with a whisper, studying Draco. There was more to him than what he was presenting. Something deeper.

“It is…important,” he said, drawing his wand.

Malina looked into his eyes and saw pain there. So Draco was a wizard with secrets. She understood secrets and how lonely keeping them could be.

“Please don’t,” she said softly, “Don’t obliviate me. I won’t tell anyone. I want to know you aren’t one of them. And you’ll feel better if at least one person knows. Secrets are like that.”

Draco looked at her.

“Malina, if it got back to the wrong people, it would mean trouble…not just for me…” he said, hesitating. He wanted Malina to know he wasn’t the way she assumed he was, but the danger…

“I won’t tell anyone, Draco,” she said. “I’m a muggle-born, remember? I’ll keep your secret.”

Draco blinked at her several times, trying to decide what to do.

”How do I know I can trust you?” he asked her. “I don’t even know you.”

”You can get to know me…over dinner,” she replied.

*****************************************

Draco explained to Malina that their friendship would also have to be a secret, and he understood if she couldn’t accept that. Malina was quite a private person herself and dating a Lord would make her a target of the paparazzi, so she had no problem with the secrecy aspect.

Draco always brought her to the Manor to eat, but was a gentleman. Malina was no easy fuck. They took time to know each other and Draco never once made an untoward move her. They would dine, talk and he would send her on her way.

One night, Malina waited for Draco to retrieve her…and he didn’t come. He didn’t show up at the studio either. He was gone for weeks. Had something happened to him? She went to his manor about a month after his disappearance, and was informed by the house elves he’d “gone away” and they didn’t know when he would be back.

This disturbed Malina. Draco did not seem the kind of wizard who would just leave without telling her anything. It was easy to see he wanted a relationship with her. Where had he gone?

Then, one night he suddenly showed up at the studio. His eyes were rather wild and pained.

“Draco, Draco…what’s wrong? Where have you been?” she had asked him.

“Come with me to the Manor, Malina…please,” he said to her almost desperately.

“But I’m in a session,” she replied.

Draco’s shoulders slumped.

“Very well,” he said, then disapparated, startling her and everyone in the sound booth.

Malina went back to doing her vocals, but she was very concerned. She had been seeing Draco for two months before his disappearance a month ago. He had never been so intense. After the session, she went to the Manor. A house elf with a worried expression let her in and showed her to the main study.

Draco was slouched in an armchair in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames with a haunted look in his eyes.

“Draco?” she said softly.

The wizard’s gray eyes shifted up, then he saw the witch and leaped out of his chair.

“Malina…you came,” he said, approaching her, that pained look still in his eyes. Suddenly he embraced her, pulling the witch tight against him, holding her.

“I need you,” he said against her temple before pulling back and looking into her eyes, “Malina…please.”

Malian’s insides seemed to flip over at the look on his face.

“Draco…” she breathed, not knowing what to say.

“Let me…let me,” he breathed, suddenly covering her mouth in a searing kiss that set her entire body ablaze.

It was the last truly coherent moment Malina had that night. Draco possessed her as if he himself were possessed and it was early morning before he finally let the witch alone, pulling her against him and wrapping his arms around her quaking body possessively.

“Don’t leave me, Malina,” were the last words he whispered to her before he fell into an exhausted and sated sleep.

They became lovers, but…Draco kept disappearing. Malina knew he was doing something important…but he would never tell her what. It was a wall between them…a wall that grew thicker and thicker as time passed. Malina tried to break it off with him several times, hiding from him for weeks before he’d find her and whisk her back to his manor.

Like he’d done tonight.

Malina listened to his breathing level out. He was asleep, but she knew that if she made any attempt to leave, Draco would wake instantly and take her again. She lay there, Draco’s chest rising and falling against her back as he slept, feeling his ache inside her and the ache of her own heart as well. She loved Draco…but couldn’t take the pain that loving him caused. The secrets between them were just too great.

Would there ever be an end to this? Would she ever get free of him?

She had to.

*****************************************

"Volaria, drink all of your pumpkin juice," Bellatrix LeStrange said to the scowling thirteen-year old witch sitting at the breakfast table with her arms crossed.

"I don't want it," Volaria said, eyeing the pumpkin juice suspiciously, "Last time I drank pumpkin juice from you, I was sick for two days and some of my hair fell out."

The young witch touched a bald patch on her blonde head and grimaced.

"You're such a pussy, Volaria," her sixteen-year-old brother said from the other end of the table. He was eating a piece of sausage.

"Voltaire, you take that back!" she yelled at him. "Aunt Bella, tell him to stop talking to me like that!"

Bellatrix grinned and said nothing.

"I am not a pussy! It's fine for boys to be bald, but not girls you idiot!" she said to her brother, who narrowed his reddened eyes at her.

"It's not going to matter if you are bald later on. Think of the power, stupid," he snarled, launching some eggs at her from his fork.

Volaria pointed her finger at the flying scrambled eggs and zapped them out of existence before they reached her. Voltaire scowled. He couldn't do that. He didn't have wandless magic.

"I don't want the fucking power!" Volaria screeched, jumping up from the table, "I don't want any of this. And for once in my life I'd like to go outside!"

The witch bolted from the room, her crimson robes billowing behind her.

Voltaire watched her go then looked up at Bellatrix, frowning. The gray-eyed witch hadn't said a word during their exchange...despite their language. She never said anything about how they spoke to each other.

"I think you should stop giving Volaria the elixir," he said quietly.

Bellatrix hid her smile and kept her face straight as she looked at the young wizard. His skin was slowly becoming more dry and flakey and he had lost all his hair.

"Why Voltaire?" she asked him, already knowing the answer.

"Because, even though I can't stand her...she's my sister. If she becomes too powerful, I'm going to have to kill her," he said, spooning some eggs into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. "There can only be one Dark Lord after all, and I have to make sure no one is as powerful as I am so I can assume my father's throne. No one. Not even Volaria. So it would be better if you stopped giving her the elixir. She doesn't want it anyway."

"I see, Voltaire. You are thinking ahead. That is good," the witch said, walking up to the young wizard, who craned his head up at the witch. Bellatrix was still very lovely and curvaceous. She ran a finger under his chin, and the young wizard closed his eyes with pleasure. His crotch always grew tight lately whenever Bella touched him. It tightened now, and he gave her a hungry look.

"It feels good when you touch me, Aunt Bella," he breathed, his red eyes opening and staring at the witch.

Bella smiled lasciviously.

"You have your father's reaction to me, Voltaire. When you turn seventeen I will show you just how good my touch can feel," she said to him, kissing the wizard lightly on his chapped lips. "I will think about stopping Volaria's treatments...but for now, apply yourself to your studies and grow strong. You have great robes to fill, Voltaire. Very great robes."

"Yes, Aunt Bellatrix," the wizard replied, his eyes resting on her body as she walked away from him.

She was so beautiful. Beautiful and cruel. She let him kill a house elf the other day...just for fun. She gave him a club and pointed at the trembling creature. His name was Dropsy, and the elf had taken care of Voltaire since he was a baby.

"Kill it Voltaire," she said, smiling at him. "See how good it feels."

Voltaire obeyed her and found that it did feel good as the elf screamed and begged his young master for mercy. The wizard beat Dropsy until he was nothing but a flat mass of pulverized skin and bone, the blood of his former caretaker covering Voltaire’s robes and spattering his face. Bella had been very pleased with him and kissed him on the lips for over five seconds, one soft hand cupping the back of his bald head. It had felt so good. Bella's mouth was so soft and warm, and she smelled...gods. Voltaire couldn't describe how she smelled if he had all the words in the world before him.

All he knew was that he loved her.

**********************************************************
A/N: Oh man. This is some stuff here. A bit of history, and now we know who the twisted witch is. Bellatrix LeStrange, grooming the next Dark Lord. Man, she’s something else. We’ll get a little history about these two offspring next chapter.