Lucius/James, sometime in current books, not Marauder era
"Can you tell me softly / How you always haunt me? / Can you help me?"
Lucius squirmed slightly between his green silk sheets. His face was contorted in consternation and his long blond mane was matted with sweat. He moaned slightly, lips parted and wet.
It had been his first time with the curse.
He was quite practiced in the Cruciatus curse, as well as the Imperius curse. But this would be his first time performing the killing curse. He was outwardly composed but his palms were sweaty and he wiped them discretely against his black cloak.
He and the Dark Lord had apparated just outside Godric’s Hollow. His master had regarded him carefully, surveying him with the utmost scrutiny.
“Thisss iss your final tessst of loyalty Luciuss…” He had whispered as the approached the innocent looking home. “All you have to do is be rid of the blood-traitor.”
“I understand my lord.”
Lucius jaw tightened and his brow furrowed.
It was just him facing down James. The dark lord had sped past him, intent on the girl and her blood-traitor spawn. James was panting and eyeing him warily. He was clearly unarmed or he would have drawn his wand by now.
“…Malfoy…” James was on edge, not sure of what to expect.
“My mission is to be rid of you for the Dark Lord,” Lucius stated conversationally.
James frowned. “Than what are you waiting for? I’m unarmed Malfoy.”
Lucius frowned, just the slightest bit.
“You will never get a cleaner shot that this.”
His eyes flashed angrily. “As you wish.”
James’ eyes widened like a deer in headlights when he drew his wand and leveled it at him.
His hand was far steadier than he had expected it to be.
“You make it easy for me. You tortured my best friend.” He stated smoothly, stepping closer to the other man. “You rejected your lineage. You fraternized with beasts. You are everything that endangers us.”
James felt suddenly emboldened. “I rejected you.”
“Aveda kevrada.” He said the words dispassionately, quietly.
James’ body dropped and landed on the Potters’ hard wood floor with a dull thud.
Lucius started awake. Sweat was dripping into his eyes and his chest was heaving.
“Are you alright dear?” Narcissa asked with concern, eyeing her husband with curiousity.
“I’m fine, just some old ghosts.” He replied. “Go back to sleep dear.”
“Alright, Lucius,” She smiled thinly. “Sleep well.”
He watched her fondly as she drifted off.
‘After all,’ He reasoned to himself as he lay back down and prepared to sleep. ‘You never forget your first.’
Track Eight - We Shout
Constantine/Gabriel, after the movie
"You traded in your wings / For everything freedom brings / You never left me / You never let me / See what this feeling means."
Gabriel frowned as he returned home after a long day of work at the restaurant job that John had found for him. Being a human, he had discovered over the past month and a half, quite frankly sucked. He could no longer fly, he could no longer feel the diving presence, and—this was the worst thing—he had gotten a cold last week. A cold! It had been horrible. His nose had run and he had had to learn how to blow it!!! He, a former seraphim had had to be taught how to blow his nose. It had been undignified.
He was never going to try and bring about divine revolution again; especially since he was now experiencing first hand exactly how poorly these human creatures lived. It was no wonder that didn’t have time for God what with all the other shit they had to deal with everyday.
A key turned in the lock at the front door and Gabriel ran to it. John came in, viciously chewing his gum and toeing off his shoes.
“Gabe, feeling better?”
“Good,” He beckoned the former angel closer.
Gabriel happily complied and let himself be embraced by the exorcist. He had never intended to be human. He had been utterly destroyed by losing his wings. But this… this feeling was good. It was tingly and warm and made him think of… fluffy things. He tilted his head upward and pressed his lips insistently against the dark-haired man. John returned the gesture chastely and disentangled himself.
“I can’t believe you’re still hanging around here.”
“You never left me,” He replied with a shrug, returning to his dinner preparations. “Why would I leave you?”
Track Nine - Perfect Enemy
"Why should I welcome your domination? / Why should I listen to explanations? / I'm not pretending to make it simple / Try to be something experimental"
((I was thinking along the lines of them early movie. Warren not listening to anything Will tried to say, pissed off.))
Warren glared violently at the back of William Theodore Stronghold’s head. He was not impressed with the scrawny twerp. He had expected the son of the Commander, his father’s jailer, to be more worthy of being his enemy. He had wanted someone he could take out his anger on. This twerp would fry if he did anything.
He didn’t want to kill the brat. He only wanted to prove that he was not his father and that he was not about to be dominated by a Stronghold; senior or junior. It wasn’t going to happen.
The kid—was he even fourteen?—squirmed uncomfortably in his seat when he noticed Warren staring at him. Good. He wanted that brat to fear him. If he couldn’t fry him he would have to deal with him at least being unnerved and terrified by him.
Pain seared along his spine when he cracked his back against the brick pillar in the teacher’s lounge. It was going to bruise, badly. Cool.
“Think I can’t take a hit Stronghold?!” He demanded flaring up as he charged towards the kid.
The next thing he was aware of he was being doused by the fire extinguisher. He glared up at the younger boy. The little heroling was impressive if nothing else. But that didn’t mean he was going to start taking his crap. He still fully intended to take this kid out; to send a special message to a certain Steven Stronghold that read “Your family isn’t as invincible as you are.”
“I say, if you ever cross me again,” He stated nonchalantly. “I will roast you alive.”
The brat was in shock. Clearly, he had fully expected his emotional sentiment to win him over. Bzzt! Not going to happen. He was not about to won over by touchy-feely emotion. Not from brat who only wanted to save his own hide.
The hippie-chick, he was discovering this quickly, was far more annoying than her brat friend. He, at least, had never tried to socialize him. He was fairly certain that if she tried it again he was going to do more than just scorch her hand. He had only agreed to the plan to make the stupid kid’s life that much more complicated. He was even half-hoping that it might send him over the edge.
All this plotting, glaring, and random acts of violence were hell on his school work.
The kid got merit points for kicking Royal Pain’s ass. He got bonus points for dumping her before the dance. He got extra points simply because it was Gwen Grayson and he had despised that girl ever since his first day at Sky High. Warren knew he was aloof and had some rather violent tendencies, but… Grayson… she was just a bitch!
So, Stronghold had been upgraded from kid to brat in his mind. He could deal with it.
Clearly, if he could handle himself against a twice-born, semi-reincarnated super villain he wasn’t quite as pathetic as he appeared.
Perhaps he could go along with this experiment in being Stronghold’s friend.
If it didn’t work he would roast him. Simple.
Track Eleven - Obezyanka Nol (Monkey Zero)
Since the song is in Russian and I have no idea what it means.... write me something so sugary sweet and fluffy my teeth rot out of my head.
The fire crackled and burned. Its tendrils curled and licked beautifully at the post-dusk sky, the first of the stars just beginning to twinkle at the happy group around the campfire.
Adam was already huddled under a blanket. The night air of Stone Canyon was nothing like the balminess one found in Angel Grove. Rocky was seated next to him, friendly arm around his shoulder as he nursed a mug of hot chocolate and told Tommy and the others some inane story featuring some sort of giant pumpkin. He wasn’t really listening. He’d heard the story so often that he could have recited it along with his best friend if he had so desired.
He had better things to do. Like creating the perfect, golden brown marshmallow. Now, he had failed several times already tonight; one had fallen into the fire, another had gone up in flames (“A flaming poof!” Rocky had cackled merrily), and another had been absolutely perfect but had fallen in the sand. He had no problem with eating it but the girls looked like they’d attack him if he tried.
So he was trying again. He had his marshmallow on a long, sturdy stick held six inches above the flames. He was rotating it slowly, not wanting to get over or undercooked on just one side. He would rather half a fully charred marshmallow than that.
Aha! It was perfect. Golden brown, slightly darker around the edges and he was sure it was gooey and sticky and wonderfully perfect inside. He smiled at it as he let it cool slightly.
“Let me have a bite,” Rocky asked hopefully when he noticed Adam’s perfect creation.
Adam snorted disdainfully. “No way.”
“You’ll eat the whole thing.”
“I would not,” Rocky replied indignantly, making out to pluck the perfect marshmallow from his friend’s grasp.
He wasn’t fast enough though and Adam popped the delicious morsel into his mouth. The other rangers laughed when Adam closed his eyes in bliss.
“That was good.”
“Was it?” Rocky asked curiously.
Adam nodded and was about to grab another marshmallow to roast to perfection when Rocky’s hand on the side of his face stopped him. He opened his mouth to protest when suddenly Rocky’s lips were against his and his tongue was making wide, gentle sweeps across his own tongue and the insides of his cheeks.
“That was good,” Rocky mused, licking his lips. “I’m glad you didn’t let me have a bite.”