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Destrius	By : BurneHazard Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 1027 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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�� When the night comes, do children
scream in fear for what they do not understand?

�� The heavy
beat of a racing heart seemed to overcome the nocturnal sounds of the Dark
Forest.� Ragged breathing quickening with
every sudden pound of blood crashing through veins as it soared along its way
made the silence of the trees all the more deadly.� Chimes of ice sounded when the breeze pushed
through the foreboding trees, making the fang-like falls of icicles meet in hard
kisses and tapping caresses.� Snow
crunched and winter-locked foliage crackled with the mere presence moving
amidst the darkness.

�� When darkness falls, do they stay awake in
terror to hear what is not there, to see what cannot be seen?

�� Shadow
flowed and moved in rippling waves, shifting and twisting to adjust and adapt
to motion no mere patch of darkness should have had. That lone breeze,
cold and quiet became a wind dancing across that portion of night's blackest
velvet, stroking with clawed fingers, raking at the ragged banners trailing the
abnormality. Silken whips lashed viciously at the teasing torment of the
wind, making it sing in whispered tones at the gestures.

�� Do they fear the darkness for what
it conceals...or what they think it conceals?

�� Clouds of
twisting, writhing steam blasted from an overheated form, rising like the
trails of a ghost�s gristly locks from pure darkness. Onward, faster and
faster as black blended with dark and motion blurred with stillness. Yet
all things met their death in one way or another, as did this strange happening
as speed vanished and motion came to abrupt halts but for faint stirrings
suggesting that life and activity still remained.

�� Is it the coming of the night they
fear, or that what they believe to be evil uses it to conceal its approach, to
hide its intentions?� The night is
neither good nor evil, yet because it is used by evil, it is seen as such.� If something so calm yet so chaotic as simple
nightfall is seen as evil for what uses it...then the way that I, myself, would
be seen is something I have yet to truly consider. All the more reason
that I should remain as I am now...alone, aloof...if only to protect those I
care for more than I ever did care for myself.

�� Alone
within the snow embraced forest, something black rested starkly against snow
made into an ethereal glow in silvery pale moonlight. Such cool beams
from the moon overhead could not raise any shimmer from the black form, as if
the creature devoured the light. Four slender, powerful long legs rested
in poised grace with straight bearing. The sleek form of a powerful,
large equine outlined in white for all to see should they dare enter the Dark
Forest, the Forbidden Forest resting outside Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and
Wizardry.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

�� Snow
crunched and whispered faintly as it was disturbed by several feet falling upon
its otherwise undisturbed blanket. The sounds were oddly loud this night,
at least, that was what the slender form in a long black cloak with hood pulled
far over the head thought. Whatever features the humanoid form had were
concealed by a mask of cloth apparently attached to the hood. As it was,
the unknown form moved with an odd manner of grace like a feline or
serpent. The presence of such a dark form was more than enough to ward the
creatures of the forest away.

�� Behind the
figure, there was no trail as a charm wove along the ground beneath the form,
erasing any and all tracks that might have allowed another to follow. So
deep within the forest, even the thought of the castle standing warm and
welcoming behind was an alien thing meant for what certainly had to be a dream
world. Only the night seemed to be witness to the lone form braving the
elements. However, it was not for a pair of eyes so dark blue they were
black followed the moving shadow.

�� While the
being drew ever closer to those watching eyes concealed by both night and
forest obstacles, the one watching waited. Deep breaths claimed the
watcher, snaring even the faintest of scents upon the air that were not of the
crisp cold. Before either truly realized it, they were directly across
from one another. The cloaked form came to a stop so suddenly it made it
appear that the previous motions had never been. Each of the two stood as
still as the forest itself.

�� "And
by what name do you go by in this form, familiar? Do you choose a
different term that befits your name as another?"

�� The words
seemed to shatter the stillness of the area only to gather the shards up and
weave them back into place in order to form a new tapestry. It did not,
however, manage to draw forth a response from the owner of those fathomless
eyes like twin voids of darkness. Perhaps it was that alone which in turn
made the cloaked form tilt its head forward in a semblance of a glower.
At the very least, the rich tone gave revelation to the gender of the humanoid,
for it was very masculine despite the slow trickle of sensuous poison left
within one's veins.

�� "Shall
I then guess which name you have bestowed upon yourself this night when you
insist upon blocking my path?"

�� Every word
seemed to make those hollow eyes narrow, becoming even darker. The winter
breeze curled and twisted along the darkness cast by both beings facing one
another down. Suddenly, a sharp snort cast a thick cloud of white vapor
into the air where it twisted and flailed about as it dissipated. And
with it, a thin twist of matching white seemed to emerge from the masked
hood. Quiet fell once again as the two simply watched one another.

�� "No...I
know now. Destrier."

�� A single
dip of an elegant head and the momentary mystery was solved. Tension that
had been building was suddenly eased as both only then realized it had been
there in the first place. Rather cautiously, the cloaked figure stepped
closer, robes making him seem to glide like a black ghost across the ground as
the snow made no sound beneath his boots and no tracks marked his
passing. And all those solid dark eyes did was watch as he approached.

�� Not quite
six feet separated the two when action was taken in a violent surge of rippling
muscle beneath black hide. All shadow departed from that dark form to
reveal a powerfully formed equine of black, displayed in complete glory as it
reared up. Deadly hooves made the air shriek as it was slashed and torn,
falling about the snowy ground like shards of a broken mirror. The
cloaked form froze in his tracks lest he be struck by those hooves.

�� Only when
the man stopped did the equine come back to earth, ears flat against his head
only to perk and turn forward. Again they simply stood like that as time
wore on. Only the slight shift of that silken mane or tail and the slight
sway of the black cloak when the breeze licked over them seemed to break the
stillness. Time passed, and as it did, the stranger seemed to begin to
fidget, the unease in the air growing more noticeable.

�� Brush
crackled and snapped behind the equine before the sound of something grunting
began to recede. In the silence, it made a racket that was positively
deafening. A sharp jerk revealed that the cloaked form was startled
though no further motion was revealed. Finally, the noises faded away and
the equine stepped aside with high, graceful motions, moving as if prancing or
perhaps simply showing off.

�� Without a
word, the stranger almost slithered forward. Now that his path was clear
without a single hindrance, he made haste to continue. The quiet, "Thank
you, Destrier" was nearly lost before the man
was completely out of sight. Alone once again in the forest, the equine�s
ears again turned back as a sharp snort departed flared nostrils.
Relaxing, the elegant head tilted as sparkling black eyes looked to where the
man had vanished.

�� You are welcome, Severus.
Just come back in one piece...

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

�� "...or
I'll kill you myself next time, understand?"

�� The only
answer was a hiss of pain as pale hands pressed a bit too hard upon an open
wound despite the gentle touches. A fresh well of crimson rose only to be
soothed away by pungent smelling salve as those fingers resumed their
work. With the healing ointment, the wound began to close up once more,
fading further with every stroke. Flesh that was pale white and pallid
despite the angry coloring of bruises both new and old began to mend.

�� Severus Snape, stripped down to
merely torn black trousers lay face-first upon the bed in his private
chambers. His body was a gristly canvas of open wounds, bruises, cuts and
scrapes. Some had been made by a whip, others by fists and hands, others
by weapons of various types, and all of them marred the smooth, wan flesh of
his slender form. Face buried in a pillow now that he was alone but for
one other, he bit into it, more out of a burning temperament than anything.

�� His hair
was matted in blood and filth, even as that same filth stained where the wounds
and other abuse did not. In truth, he had not expected the Death Eater
meeting to turn out quite the way it had or he would have taken a few potions
before attending in order to help himself heal faster. The pale hands
working upon his back and sides were gentle despite the pain that came with
every touch. At least the effects of the Cruciatus
Curse had been removed the instant he had reached his quarters.

�� "Do you
understand?"

�� Wincing
again before soothing salve numbed the pain away, he managed a nod before forcing
his head up to glance over a shoulder that had been dislocated moments before
and was now mostly healed. His cold black eyes were glazed with pain yet
he did not make any sound other than a faint hiss now and then. Rather,
he glared at the form leaning forward over him and currently lecturing him for
attending the meeting.

�� "Well,
Des," he spat. "If a certain someone had not held me up for so
long in the forest while I was heading toward a meeting...ah! I wouldn't
have been late and this wouldn't have happened now would it."

�� That voice
was as cold and lethal as an ice-locked steel dagger. Yet the other being
did not flinch. Rather, the head rose so that Snape's
black on white eyes met two eyes of solid black, things that were hollow and
locked in the same cold held within the wounded man's eyes with the pain of
seeing another suffer and be helpless to stop it. Both hands fell still
as the two locked gazes, battling with something neither of them truly knew,
except it was not really a fight between them.

�� Des Masuku was a slender, lithe man much as Severus
himself was, with the same pale skin and black hair but that his was far longer
than the potion master's, reaching down past his lower back to dance about his
hips. The sharp features seemed unnervingly similar to Snape even if appearing several years younger without the
sharp form of the Roman nose or the same chiseled hardness of face.
Anyone watching might even wonder if the two were indeed related, and many had
wondered the same before upon meeting the long-haired man.

�� "In
the future, I'll try to focus more on your schedule rather than your safety and
life. Will that make you happy?"

�� Blinking, Severus actually had to restrain the urge to growl, though
his glare seemed to make up for it. Turning again, he simply rested his
chin on the pillow and glowered straight ahead. The warm hands began to
move upon his back yet again and he tried to relax as bit by bit, the pain was
removed. It was easier to breathe now, thankfully no bones had been
broken this time. His eyes closed as he shifted into a slightly more
comfortable position.

�� All track
of time was soon lost as the silence wore on, interrupted only by an occasional
hiss or the hummed lines to some song or other, most of them from muggle origins. Snape found
himself beginning to drift off despite the lingering agony of his body.
He barely realized it when Des gently removed his trousers and treated his legs
as well as the rest of his back. Only half awake, he realized he was
being turned over and those warm hands were working upon his arms and chest.

�� Eyes
opening partially, he watched Des work, drifting. Tonight had been a tax
on him, despite how often he went through such ordeals. It left his mind
detached. Maybe it was the fact that he so rarely felt gentle hands that
tried not to cause pain, but he was relaxing more and more. What pain was
left seemed almost a pleasant ache, an occasional sharp stab of pain always
fading into a fiery burn that just drifted away.

�� Only when
those hands began to work on his stomach did he wake a bit more, pulled back to
his body by slightly faster breaths and a racing heart. He knew what was
happening. It always happened when Des worked. There was no shame
even as he felt the fire warming his blood, the faint knot that formed inside
as his stomach fluttered. No, this was nothing new. It was simply
the skilled hands drawing a physical reaction from his body, one growing rather
apparent as he bit back a moan.

�� The
faintest of smiles brushed the man's lips as he regarded Severus.
No doubt Des was watching the play of muscles rippling and rolling beneath that
pale flesh, admiring the attractive form of his body. Oh, Snape knew how the other man thought, mostly due to the way
those solid black eyes spoke to him than anything. Even as he began to
part his lips to suggest they stop as he was feeling better, hot hands made
into smooth, satin heat wrapped around his arousal, stealing his voice, breath
and thoughts all at once.

�� Moaning
despite himself, he grabbed for the bedcovers, gripping them hard in effort to
keep from being swept away altogether. His hips thrust toward those
stroking hands as he tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling. A
chuckle from Des made him almost stop, before deciding it was not worth
it. The way every skilled stroke sent jolts of sensation through him was
worth letting Des have something back for Severus'
own snap.

�� "Do
you want me to stop, Severus?"

�� Hands
stilling a moment, they allowed Snape to gasp for
breath, calming slightly. Turning his head to send Des a sharp look, he
noticed the smirk resting upon the man's pale lips, the sparkle in those black
eyes. Now the professor had to war with himself. He wanted nothing
more than to demand Des continue and make him feel everything good for all the
pain he had been through. Yet, the next day was filled with
classes. Mentally, he cursed himself and slumped.

�� Des took
that as a despondent "Yes" and removed his hands. Since there
were no more bad wounds to tend to, he twisted to pile his things back onto the
tray placed on the foot of the bed. Cleaning things up, he looked back to
Severus. Already the man was managing to calm
himself. Unfortunately, he knew how that was done. Both of them
were fiercely loyal (to appearances at least) to Albus
Dumbledore, yet often they used a mental image of him in a thong dancing to
will their...arousal...away.

�� It worked
as Severus shuddered, fighting back the urge to
gag. Carefully shifting, he turned onto his side even as Des rose to set
the tray aside on a nearby chair. No word was said as the man helped the
aching one under the covers of his bed. The tenderness displayed might
have shocked anyone and everyone should they watch the dark one tucking the
potion's master in without being snapped at. But there was a reason they
were in private.

�� Again Severus found himself beginning to drift off. This
time he knew it was due to the medication Des used to treat him. He
watched the long-haired form move around his quarters, tidying up things and
making certain the fire was dim yet the heat remained. In truth, it was a
rather pleasant sight as the light caught the black satin shirt Des wore,
making it glisten wetly just as the unbound locks of hair shimmered. The
tight leather pants and knee-high riding boots helped as well.

�� Just as Des
tossed the stained and torn clothes Snape had been
wearing aside for the house elves to take care of, he caught sight of the man
in the bed. By the deep, rather even breathing, he was already sound
asleep. That accounted for the fact he no longer felt the professor's
eyes on him. A faint smile touched his lips as he turned to put the
various things he had used to make the salve away.

�� Taking up
his own black cloak in one hand, he draped it over his arm, halfway folded to
keep it from dragging upon the ground. Standing before the heat of the
fireplace, he took a moment to simply study Severus.
The bruises patterning his face in cruelty were already fading, a bit slower
than the open wounds had, but that was due to a potion. His smile faded
away as a look of helpless pain flashed through his hollow eyes. Even
with the bruises, the hair many thought of as greasy fanned out over the pillow
like black satin.

�� Quietly, he
moved to the door, ready to head out. Pausing, he took one more look back
to Snape before releasing a heavy sigh.

�� "Good
night, Severus. And good luck tomorrow. I
have the feeling you will certainly need it."

�� The portal
opened before him and he slid out into the cold, dank air of the
Dungeons. He waited for it to close behind him before taking a single
glance around and turning to head even further into the labyrinth of
passages. His own quarters were hidden somewhere within the
tunnels. As he walked, he allowed himself to become lost in thought about
Severus Snape, the Death
Eaters, Voldemort, Albus
Dumbledore and most importantly, Harry Potter. His own words echoed back
to him as if a ghost were speaking in the hall.

�� All the more reason that I should
remain as I am now...alone, aloof...if only to protect those I care for more
than I ever did care for myself.
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Destrius