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Duco Draconis	By : NihilEtNemo Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Draco/Blaise Views: 3456 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Harry Potter.

Chapter List
- 1-Duco Draconis
- 1
TITLE: Duco
Draconis
CHAPTER: oneshot
AUTHOR: Ankh Ascendant ( setosgirl0 /
neferseti0 )
DATE: 1-8-10
FANDOM: Harry Potter
DISCLAIMER: I
don’t own HP, or make any money from it.
PAIRINGS:
Blaise/Draco
TYPE: Drama
RATING: PG
WARNINGS: slash and
minors, but not actual sex
OCs: none
BETA: none
WORDS:
940
SUMMARY: Blaise thinks he has a deal. Draco doesn't think he
can refuse.
NOTES: The title is Latin for... well, many words, but
they include “influence”, “command”, “lead
on the march”... mostly generally in that vein. I imagine this
(OOC) version of Blaise with an inherited power, like Perseltongue,
based on the ways snakes are (spuriously) said to hypnotise their
prey with eye contact. Didn't I read that his mother was a strangely
alluring singer? I might be hallucinating that. Anyway, if you read
it that way is up to you. :)

* * *

Duco Draconis

Deep black eyes met his liquid grey,
joining in silence and lingering.

Rich dark skin that was almost the
color of his eyes, reflecting the dim light of the dungeon only in
deep mahogany highlights, disappeared into plain black school robes
that shifted with a whisper, sliding down his arm as he lifted his
hand. Long, strong fingers brushed over a delicate pointed chin and a
cheek so pale only moonlight would highlight it properly.

He had to lift his chin to meet those
dark eyes. The dark figure loomed above him, accentuating his own
slight stature. Cloth hissed as the other moved closer, but he was
paralyzed. He couldn't even blink his eyes to dispel whatever magic
was in the air, captivated as he was by the deep eyes. They held him
fast, pinned in place like an interesting specimen for study, allowed
no escape, given no empathy.

“Zabini...” He struggled
with his voice, forcing the words from his mouth. It was high, weak,
but honestly he was impressed that he could summon it at all. “What
are you doing?”

Blaise smiled. It was not a warm smile
– nothing about him was. The smile made his face into some sort
of cold and soulless carving mocking emotion it couldn't understand;
his eyes stayed deep and dark like bottomless pools of icy water.
Even his skin was cool, pulling heat from his cheek and making him
shiver as he touched him.

“You want me in your gang, don't
you?” His voice was low and deep like his eyes, silky like the
light on his skin. Another shiver ran up his spine, and it had
nothing to do with the cool touch of his hand. “You have since
first year. Well, now I'm thinking about it.”

“What are you... thinking...?”
His voice failed him, trailing off with the last word, and he
swallowed thickly. There was something so compelling about Blaise's
cool visage that he couldn't look away.

One finger tapped his cheek, and Draco
jerked as though it had been a blow.

“I was thinking we can come to an
arrangement.”

His mouth opened of its own accord to
ask a question, but he had no idea what was supposed to come out. It
flapped once, pathetically empty, then he shivered and closed it
again.

Blaise might have been amused, but he
didn't show it. No real emotion ever marred his cold, carved
features. That coldness was so alien, so foreign to him, that it drew
him helplessly close. He had never managed that coldness. He could
compartmentalize, rationalize, manipulate, calculate all he wanted,
but he had never been able to achieve that near-perfect coldness he
should have possessed, the fine Malfoy personality that was expected
of him. Somewhere beneath all the compartmentalizing and calculating
the emotion was still there, always there, burning, and sometimes he
lost control of it... He yelled in anger. He pouted to get what he
wanted. He feared and couldn't hide it. Sometimes he even cried, when
he had no choice but to let it out or let it consume him. At his
core, he was always burning...

And because he could never realize that
iciness, it drew him. Blaise's imperturbable cold shell was an
unattainable pinnacle of perfection, an idol that he should have
emulated.

Could he stand to be any closer than he
was to something that reminded him of what he couldn't be? A reminder
every day of his shortcomings?

Could he refuse? If Blaise wanted close
to him, could he really summon the will to say no?

“Maybe I'll join your little
gang.” Blaise's silky voice just seemed to roll off his tongue
without effort. Draco wasn't entirely certain he was speaking and not
projecting the words magically. “I'll help you with your desire
for the illusion of control. You want to look like a leader, and I
don't really care for it, one way or the other. But, perhaps, it will
help your standing with the other people who care, if I seem to defer
to you.”

He should have been insulted. Part of
him almost was. Illusion of control? Little gang? He made him sound
so immature, like this was all a petty game Blaise had long outgrown.

Yet even that sank down into the
burning core of roiling, senseless emotions that battled, barely
touching the surface of his thoughts. He couldn't focus on the
insults and the offhand comments that were designed to ruffle his
scales. He could only think that Blaise's plan had merit, real merit.
He would look better with a Zabini in his group, and he was certainly
more competent and intelligent than Crabbe and Goyle put together...

“And... you?” His traitor
voice returned, cracked and unsteady, refusing still to obey. It said
the words that it wanted to, regardless of any real thought. “What
do you get...?”

The cold smile slid across the black
boy's perfectly chiseled face again, and he leaned close. “Well,”
he breathed over his ear; the breath itself was cold. “We both
know you aren't really leader material...”

He could never have said why, but the
pronouncement robbed the strength from his legs. His knees threatened
to buckle, and he swayed, but a cool hand pressed over his robes and
pulled him close and steady.

“All right...” he agreed
breathlessly, and his slender fingers twined in the coarse robes.
“...All right...”

He got only the fleeting impression of
the reptilian smile of a snake before cool lips pressed against his,
and then he was burning...

~end~
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Duco Draconis