Saving your life

What on earth was wrong with him?

He had been pacing around the empty room for almost an hour now, and still he couldn’t calm down. All his life he had been in control of his mind and body, but now this situation, this girl… it was just different. In his world different usually meant bad.

He had learnt to always think before acting, avoiding any feeling he couldn’t easily hide. He needed to keep his mind closed to everyone else, and it was getting harder by the minute.

The first time he hadn’t given it much thought. He knew he had done the only possible thing to get them both out of there alive. It had felt good, of course, but that didn’t mean anything. Yes, he had thought about her after that night, but what had happened had been purely physical.
She was his former student, some twenty years younger than him. She had been scared and acted on instinct. What on earth was wrong with him?

He still couldn’t help his thoughts.

He had tried to find a way to keep her out of it, but he needed to pass information to the Order, and the only way to do that was through her. Then there was the fact that the Dark Lord thought she was with him. He had asked him at least twice after the first night if he had seen her, if he had learnt any important bit of information. He also had Death Eaters following him everywhere day and night, and they were probably keeping an eye on her too, so there was no way he could just fake the meeting.

It wasn’t as if he wanted to see her again, of course not, but he had to. He had contacted her that first night and arranged a new meeting, but always on the hope he would be able to cancel it later on. No such luck.

Truth was he had been shocked to find her there; maybe he had thought she would just stay away from him, not leaving the safety of the Order’s quarters; it would probably be the smart thing to do. Still, deep inside, he was glad she had gone; he longed to feel that soft skin against his own again, and the moment their bodies touched, it had taken everything he had to stay in control of himself.

Hearing her moans, feeling her body tremble at his touch, he couldn’t remember having experienced anything so arousing before. His mouth had gone dry, his voice hoarse when he had told her what he needed to say, his fingers always giving her pleasure, teasing, knowing how hard she was trying to concentrate on his words.
Then she had touched him, and he had pulled away knowing he would completely lose control of himself if he didn’t. His whole body ached with the desire to touch her, and he knew if he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He couldn’t afford that kind of behaviour.

A part of him was screaming he should just stay away from her, while the other part was already planning a pretext to see her again. What on earth was wrong with him?


The meeting was about to start, he could already hear voices outside the room, and he took a deep breath, calming down and closing his mind further.

They sat around the table, all wearing their masks and waiting for their Master to enter. It took about two hours for everyone to talk, discussing future plans and sharing the details of their activities since they’d last met, and he had to sink his nails on the palm of his hands to stay focused on it, thinking maybe he could gather some useful information. When the meeting was over the Dark Lord asked him to follow him to his studio once more.

He knew he had to tell him something, and so he did

“The girl said they’re planning on going back to Grimmauld Place, but there’s no Fidelius charm protecting it. They haven’t yet decided when they’ll move. That’s all she knew.”

It wouldn’t be wise to make up much more until he had a plan and so he muttered an excuse and quickly left for Spinners End.

He could smell the brewing potion from outside the door, and as he entered, he cursed under his breath. He was tired, but he knew he had to add a few ingredients that very night.

After a few hours, he finally went to bed, but found he couldn’t sleep. Just like the last few night he would see images of that girl whenever he closed his eyes. He got up and went to sit on his couch, by the fireplace. Maybe some firewhisky would help him out.

Soon his senses were numb from the drinking, but watching the fire, he kept thinking about her, about what it had felt like to touch her. All of a sudden he was imagining what would have happened if he had let her touch him in return. He could almost feel her hands on him.

He closed his eyes and pictured her lying on the floor under his body. He didn’t even notice his own fingers slowly unbuttoning his robes.

He groaned when his hand grazed his growing erection through the fabric, just as he saw her in his mind’s eye wrapping her legs around his waist.

Slipping his fingers inside his underwear he softly rubbed his length imagining it was her hand and stifled another groan. He closed his fingers around his now aching erection and stroked, slowly at first but soon gaining speed, now picturing her moving against him and writhing in pleasure.

He bit his lower lip just as he started buckling his hips, moaning quietly; he didn’t last long, and the moment he came back down from his orgasm his eyes shot open in shock.

He got up and went to his bathroom, quickly jumping under the shower, the cold water making him shiver and at the same time calming his body down.
He couldn’t believe what he had just done, after days of trying to control himself. This would only make everything harder; he would have to focus even more to keep her out of his mind around his Master.

Well, that was it. He’d have to find a way to keep her away from all this, and away from him. He would find another way to pass information, and he would never have to see her again. This was definitely the best thing to do.

It was with that on his mind that he went back to bed, finally falling asleep only to wake up with another hard on.

The next night went by almost like the first one, and on the second one, he woke up when he felt his arm ache. He pulled up his sleeve to find the Dark Mark black and burning on his skin.

In only a few minutes, he was dressed and standing in front of his Master, along with most Death Eaters. They had a mission, he explained.

One of his spies at the Ministry had been captured, and he needed to be replaced. They were to go to London and break into a few selected houses. Once put under the Imperius curse they should leave their residents there, ready for instructions.

Needless to say, if any target fought the curse they were to kill them. It was a good thing not many wizards could fight against it.

It was dark outside when they left, masked and silent, walking together. With a single POP, they found themselves in London, and parted into three groups.

He walked, along with another half a dozen men, towards a small house just a few feet away. The door flew open with a loud bang and they entered wands at the ready.
The witch and wizard living there had been awoken by the intruders, and were given no time to react.

The screams from the Cruciatus filled the room, but the silencing spells kept everyone outside the house from hearing them. He let a few minutes pass, laughing with them, and then suggested they should just put the Imperius on them and leave before someone found them. Although reluctantly they agreed, and one of them cast the curse and then left them unconscious lying on the floor as they went back outside the house to join the other groups.

He knew it would happen; whenever they went on missions like this they lost control of themselves, and that night was no exception.

The first one was a Muggle man walking down their street, but soon a few more joined him. They kept them floating over their heads as they looked for more Muggles to torture.

He couldn’t stay there anymore. He was tired of it; tired of pretending to be the same man he had once been, years ago.
He wasn’t a good man, of that there was no doubt; he still thought he was better than most people, still believed in the importance of wizarding blood, of the family one belonged to. He was mean and often even cruel to people, and enjoyed making most of them feel bad, but he no longer found torturing Muggles a form of entertainment. He wasn’t like them, but he wasn’t so different either.

He just didn’t care about what they were doing. He couldn’t stop them, so there was no need to stay. He took part on some of it, did just what was expected of him, and then turned around and left. He knew they wouldn’t even notice, they were having such a good time.

He first went to Spinner’s End, but then remembered he had left his potions book at headquarters, and he needed it to continue the potion he was brewing. He sighed in frustration and Apparated there.

It was strange to find the place so empty, there were usually people around all day, but now he knew only the Dark Lord was left.

He walked to the library careful not to make any noise. He didn’t feel like explaining himself if his Master found him there, and he definitely didn’t want to have another lovely chat with him.

The room was dark and empty, and he lit his wand as he approached the desk he had been working on earlier. He went through the books trying to find the one he needed and saw a scroll of parchment he knew wasn’t there at the time he had left. It had his name written on it.

He pulled it open over the table and frowned when he saw it was blank. He had a bad feeling about it, and he had learnt to trust his instincts long ago.

After a few seconds, he touched it with his wand and whispered some words. The paper remained empty. He tried a second spell, and then a third, and finally, after the fourth one words appeared on its surface. A quick glance was enough to drain his face of all colour, and he put the roll in his pocket as he ran to the door.

There was a reason why he had burnt the parchment he had used to talk to Granger. It was dead useful to communicate, but if found a powerful wizard would soon find a way to reveal what had been written before.

The one who had left it among his things had known he would find it and read it; they were playing with him, mocking. Still, he wasn’t supposed to go back there until the next morning; he had found it sooner than expected, so maybe he still had time to do something.

Once he left headquarters and was far enough from the wards, he Apparated on the woods once more. He could see light inside the cabin and run, wand in hand and expecting the worse.

He opened the door and stood there, panting and taking in the scene in front of him.
A tall man, dressed in black robes and wearing a Death Eater’s mask was standing inside, his back to him as he fought to keep Granger under control.

She had one of his hands around her neck, keeping her pinned to the wall as the other one was pointing his wand at her. Her face was bloody and swollen, her lips parted as she fought for breath. Her feet were dangling in the air and her nails buried on her attacker’s arms, drawing blood as she tried to defend herself.

He could hear his cold laugh as he tightened his grasp, choking her. “This is what you get for messing with us. I couldn’t kill you the first time, but you’re not getting away now.”

He took a deep breath, regaining his composure and pointed his wand at the man as he said calmly

“You shouldn’t be doing that, Lucius.”