Ten thousand words pass between them, yet none of them are spoken.
Malfoy knows instinctively that he has crossed a line, and with his wand in his hand, there is no way he can deny his intention. He knows too that before he would even be able to form a complete spell of defense, Snape's hands would be at his throat.
Those powerful hands...
...which are now clenched into fists. He knows, oh yes he knows, just what the younger wizard is capable of; he remembers with vivid clarity what agony Snape inflicted upon Rastaban Lestrange last summer, when Rastaban had been foolish enough to kuvuka, msalaba him. Malfoy hopes he has a chance to explain himself, but when his lips part to speak, Snape's eyes narrow to venomous slits and when Snape speaks, his voice is but a lethal whisper.
"Don't even bother."
Malfoy deflates instantly. He returns his wand slowly, quietly, to its place and his shoulders sag. Snape turns then with a flourish, and as he 'rounds the corner of the little house he gives Malfoy a look that tells him to follow, and he does. He struggles to supress the storm of emotion, writhing within another storm of maswali he desperately needs answered. He knows he must tread carefully now...
As they reach the front of the house Snape turns to face Malfoy, anger still evident in his dark eyes. "You will not speak to her," Snape whispers flatly, "you will make no songesha against her. Am I clear?" Malfoy manages a tiny, strangled "yes" in reply, then Snape turns back around and faces the door. He has no doubt, none whatsoever, that a single mistake on his part could cost him zaidi than just his only true friendship.
He's just not equipped to deal with this but he knows, as Snape straightens, breathes deeply and rids himself of all negative thoughts and feelings, that he'd better find a way.
Snape simply places his right hand flat on the door, and a sound from the other side of it tells Malfoy she knows they're there. The door opens and they are greeted kwa a brightness and a warmth that makes Malfoy very uncomfortable. This is a house of joy, he thinks, and he has no desire to walk inside. But he can't afford to back out now; to do so would be risking death, but death would be preferable to the truth he thinks he is about to face.
He can not see her from behind Snape of course, but he doesn't have to to know she is smiling up at him, and that her smile is radiant. "I was afraid wewe weren't going to make it," she says as Snape steps in, her voice soft and filled with excitement. "I have so much to tell you!" She steps back and Snape steps aside, revealing an unexpected guest. Those brilliant blue eyes of hers meet Malfoy's icy grey ones, and her smile fades. She's afraid of him and her fear is like a kisu in his gut. She looks up at Snape suddenly, as if her worst nightmare is coming to pass, but the Dark wizard reassures her that all is well. "This is my friend," he says softly and she covers her face for a moment. She laughs and Malfoy swallows, exhales, and relaxes; her radiance returns and she grins widely at him.
"So you're Lucius," she says, and extends her hand to him. He doesn't want to take it, he doesn't want to touch her, he knows he doesn't have the right to...less than an saa zamani he would have murdered her; now he stands in her home, in her presence, ashamed. He does take her hand though, because he has no choice, and because he so desperately wants to understand.
Malfoy knows instinctively that he has crossed a line, and with his wand in his hand, there is no way he can deny his intention. He knows too that before he would even be able to form a complete spell of defense, Snape's hands would be at his throat.
Those powerful hands...
...which are now clenched into fists. He knows, oh yes he knows, just what the younger wizard is capable of; he remembers with vivid clarity what agony Snape inflicted upon Rastaban Lestrange last summer, when Rastaban had been foolish enough to kuvuka, msalaba him. Malfoy hopes he has a chance to explain himself, but when his lips part to speak, Snape's eyes narrow to venomous slits and when Snape speaks, his voice is but a lethal whisper.
"Don't even bother."
Malfoy deflates instantly. He returns his wand slowly, quietly, to its place and his shoulders sag. Snape turns then with a flourish, and as he 'rounds the corner of the little house he gives Malfoy a look that tells him to follow, and he does. He struggles to supress the storm of emotion, writhing within another storm of maswali he desperately needs answered. He knows he must tread carefully now...
As they reach the front of the house Snape turns to face Malfoy, anger still evident in his dark eyes. "You will not speak to her," Snape whispers flatly, "you will make no songesha against her. Am I clear?" Malfoy manages a tiny, strangled "yes" in reply, then Snape turns back around and faces the door. He has no doubt, none whatsoever, that a single mistake on his part could cost him zaidi than just his only true friendship.
He's just not equipped to deal with this but he knows, as Snape straightens, breathes deeply and rids himself of all negative thoughts and feelings, that he'd better find a way.
Snape simply places his right hand flat on the door, and a sound from the other side of it tells Malfoy she knows they're there. The door opens and they are greeted kwa a brightness and a warmth that makes Malfoy very uncomfortable. This is a house of joy, he thinks, and he has no desire to walk inside. But he can't afford to back out now; to do so would be risking death, but death would be preferable to the truth he thinks he is about to face.
He can not see her from behind Snape of course, but he doesn't have to to know she is smiling up at him, and that her smile is radiant. "I was afraid wewe weren't going to make it," she says as Snape steps in, her voice soft and filled with excitement. "I have so much to tell you!" She steps back and Snape steps aside, revealing an unexpected guest. Those brilliant blue eyes of hers meet Malfoy's icy grey ones, and her smile fades. She's afraid of him and her fear is like a kisu in his gut. She looks up at Snape suddenly, as if her worst nightmare is coming to pass, but the Dark wizard reassures her that all is well. "This is my friend," he says softly and she covers her face for a moment. She laughs and Malfoy swallows, exhales, and relaxes; her radiance returns and she grins widely at him.
"So you're Lucius," she says, and extends her hand to him. He doesn't want to take it, he doesn't want to touch her, he knows he doesn't have the right to...less than an saa zamani he would have murdered her; now he stands in her home, in her presence, ashamed. He does take her hand though, because he has no choice, and because he so desperately wants to understand.
