Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Roses and Lovers ❯ March 29th, 1974 ( Chapter 5 )

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March29th, 1974

 

“—god, Arc—”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“—mmf—please—”

 

“Shut up!”

 

“Arcturus, you're drunk!”

 

Arcturus pulled his mouth away from Theopolis' bruised lips, and looked at the Carvel youth that he had trapped against the wall with his slightly taller frame. His skin was pale, although he was flushed and his cheeks looked rosy in the candlelight. Arcturus lost his left hand in Theo's shoulder-length alabaster hair as he smiled, gray eyes dark and full of lust, at the man he had trapped currently beneath him. “I,” he said haughtily, “am not drunk.”

 

They were in Independence, one of many in the Rosier estates, now, with everyone gone but Arcturus' long-standing girlfriend, Andrea Darkmoore, who was three rooms away from them, and his brother, Evan, who was downstairs with his girlfriend whose name neither of the two preferred to remember. The Mansion was built in traditional Tudorbethan (“Mock Tudor”) Style, and it rose above all the other much smaller guest houses that Arcturus' and Evan's father had built not so long ago: Independence had become a frequent meeting-place of the Death Eaters, and several of them preferred to stay in the hospitality of the Rosier guest houses, which were fully equipped with a restroom, a bed, and an employed maid who would take care of everything.

 

“What if Andrea hears us? Andrea, Arcturus! Why the hell were you drinking firewhisky at noon! Our Dark Lord will summon us any moment now!”

 

“Our meetings with our Lord,” Arcturus said as he began a trail of wet kisses from his lover's bruised lips, then to his neck, then to his collarbone, nipping slightly on the flesh exposed to him, “are not until later tonight.”

 

“Andrea, then, Arcturus!” There was defiance in Theopolis' voice, but his body was not responding eagerly to his betrayal of feelings. His body knew exactly how Arcturus touched him, how - “Andrea!”

 

Arcturus raised his head and growled, “I am not married to Andrea Darkmoore!”

 

“Not yet, you mean.” Theopolis was glaring at him, blue eyes alit with fire. “Your father will surely arrange a marriage -”

 

“Father? He does not even know of Andrea, my dear,” responded Arcturus levelly, grasping a table to his side to make sure that he did not stumble or fall. “And it will stay that way. My feelings are none of my father's concern.”

 

“And Andrea?” challenged Theopolis. He would not be taken like a whore - be taken by somebody drunk. He had a name, a powerful, influential name - Carvel - to hold up; being taken by somebody drunk, even if it was Arcturus, might prove to be scandalous, if there were people who ever found out. And Theopolis felt that Andrea Darkmoore was, indeed, close to finding out. According to Arcturus, Andrea was very open-minded, even if just a little opinionated; he had been drawn to her because of her extreme expertise in politically-concerned issues. He had also come to respect her, and love her - but not in the way, oh no, in the way that he loved Theopolis. It was more of a brother-and-sister relationship, but if even the slightest word of that relationship would reach their fathers, a marriage would happen within mere months. “What of her feelings? They are not of your concern, either?”

 

Theopolis did not deny it, either, that Andrea was very pretty, and had the usual characteristics of a traditional, Pureblooded Dark witch: She spoke in a voice just above a whisper so that it was almost very hard to believe that she was at all Dark, and she used this tactic to lure men and women alike into unending sympathy of her, and she used this sympathy to her advantage; she was very clever - Theopolis knew her from his years in Hogwarts as a Ravenclaw, and shared the same House, but that `knowing' was only brief - and she could use even the slightest of things to her advantage; she was very fast with her reflexes, having served as both Chaser and Seeker in a span of three years; and she was very dangerous and very eloquent with her words - even if she did not speak unless she was spoken to, and often kept to herself, she had a way with her words that would make even the most composed of wizards kneel at her feet and begin begging. She was a Darkmoore that way, along with her pale, silvery-gray eyes, along with her chocolate-colored hair.

 

“Her feelings,” Arcturus began as he paced his room before stopping to pause and sit on his beds, “are a larger concern of mine than Father's will ever be. She knows she cannot give me all of the pleasure that I want, though her eager submissiveness and lusty dominance makes me hard thinking of them. She knows that I spend my time with you when I do not spend my time with her. She knows, Theo.”

 

“And you can be loyal to two lovers?”

 

Arcturus did not reply, but handed Theopolis a red rose instead.