Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The character and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies, e.g. Bloomsbury

Three Cheers to Falling in Love

I'm getting by with my collapsible lung; And it's a good time, one hundred percent of the time

Like a ladder with a missing rung; It's a slow climb getting back to the sky

Feeling backwards when I'm trying the most; I hope I haven't heard the last words from the Holy Ghost

Cause I think I'm supposed to be well on my way by now

I'll do the twist with my replaceable hips; Then turn you right round and dip you down to the ground

And now I wanna grow old and rub your tired limbs; And take it easy until we wither away

Collapsible Lung - Relient K

Draco waited patiently upon his bed, his curtains half-drawn, whilst he idly hummed under his breath. Zabini had not yet returned to the dormitory, 'Probably ensconced somewhere with Parkinson,' Draco thought amusedly, whilst Crabbe, Goyle and Nott had fallen collapsed upon their mattress half an hour ago. Draco himself had only entered the dormitory a few moments prior, as he was busy settling the new Snakes into the House.

Draco couldn't help but frown when he thought of Lucy, the small, Slytherin first-year, who required the pain-relieving potion. To this day, despite the extensive injuries and emotional therapy he had seen from Samael, he still could not comprehend child-abuse. Vehemently, he swore to himself that she would never have to return to her parents. 'Severus will most probably investigate the matter more thoroughly, and contact the Ministry before the week is out.'

Silver eyes darted to the door, as the familiar tapping of Samael's cane could be heard traversing the stone steps. A short moment passed before the door was opened, and Samael appeared in the doorway. Unbidden, a smile stretched his face, and he beckoned the smaller wizard to the bed. Samael returned the smile tiredly, and sat beside Draco upon the edge of mattress.

Wrapping an arm around Samael's shoulders, he pulled the raven-haired teen's head to his shoulder. "What did Longbottom say?" he asked quietly.

"Silencio!" Samael hissed quietly to ensure their privacy, before he turned hardened emerald eyes upon Draco's face. "I am to murder Umbridge," he revealed solemnly, his sharp eyes searching Draco's face, and the blonde withheld the urge to smile. 'Silly boy, you should know I won't abandon you.'

"And why are you to do that?" he returned nonchalantly, "Not that I am complaining. I had to converse with her for nearly an hour at father's birthday, and her prejudice and self-righteousness both astounded and repulsed me in one."

Samael's lips twitched somewhat. "Quite. Personally, I have not had the displeasure of speaking with her. However, Marvolo has assured me that he has had to restrain himself from murdering her himself several times."

"So," Draco drawled, whilst firmly grasping Samael's hand. "What has the pink toad done to warrant her execution so prematurely?"

Samael glanced at their entwined fingers for a moment, before shifting closer to the blonde. "She, in her infinite wisdom, is planning to indoctrinate our feeble, young minds, into believing that magical beings are worthless creatures, and subsequently convince our parents to boycott Marvolo's Act."

Draco scowled at the woman's stupidity, "I am assuming that she has not planned this idiotic plan herself?"

Samael smirked slightly, "You would be correct." Sighing, he gently placed his cane beside Draco's bed, and pulled the blonde down so that they were both laying on the bed. "A man named Oswald – who I can only assume is Oswald Beauchamp, is assisting in this useless endeavour."

Draco took a peek at the wizard lying beside him, and smiled softly. 'Who knew that I would eventually have him to myself?' he mused, 'Well I did actually, but I did not foresee it occurring so quickly.' Samael had become even more forthcoming since they admitted their feelings for one another. When in private Samael would initiate contact, and smile at him 'so lovingly,' he thought wonderingly.

"So, when will you enact your plan?"

Samael pinched the bridge of his nose; sighing up at the canopy of the bed. "Later tonight."

"I shall come with you," Draco announced. Immediately, Samael voiced his protestations, yet Draco merely kiss his temple lightly. "I will not partake in any part of your plan. I shall not cast a single spell at the woman. I shall merely accompany you, act as a lookout, whatever you want me to be, but I will be there."

Samael glared at him, "You are insufferable, Dragon," he declared, though there was no real heat behind his words, and Draco smirked triumphantly. 'Samael can never stay angry when he says Dragon.' He thought fondly. Propping himself upon his elbows, the blonde teen glanced down at Samael's tense face and smiled fondly.

Samael merely raised an eyebrow at Draco's expression. "We shall leave at midnight. No-one shall remain in the Common Room past eleven. Parkinson and Zabini may pose a problem though," he murmured thoughtfully, glancing at Zabini's empty bed.

Draco snorted inelegantly. "Those two will not crawl back into Slytherin until the early hours of the morning," he declared amusedly, "They will be quite busy with other activities," his words wore laden with innuendo, and both Samael's eyebrows rose in surprise; a small smirk stretching his face.

"Oh," he murmured, "I must profess, I did not think they would escalate that quickly. Are they betrothed?"

Draco wrinkled his nose, "Not that I am aware of. I believe they have hidden their relationship from their parents, or more specifically from his Mother. She is hardly an advocate for permanent, monogamous relationships."

"I concur," Samael stated, Madam Zabini's reputation as the 'Black Widow' was infamous. Suddenly, Samael turned his mesmerising emerald eyes upon Draco. "Did you know that Father and Lucius are drawing up our betrothal contract?"

Immediately, Draco sat up and stared at Samael in shock. "They know?!" he questioned frantically, before Samael's words fully sank in and his face morphed into shock. "But… I thought Father would want to me to marry a girl of his choosing."

Samael cocked his head to the side, analysing Draco from a new angle. "And yet you courted me," he stated rather than questioned. Draco nodded.

"I would rather have your love than Father's approval," he admitted quietly, a blush staining his cheeks. "Of course, I desired both. I just never thought he would approve- What? Samael?!" Draco gasped out, as the Lestrange grasped his tie and pulled him down.

Warm emerald eyes softened, and Samael captured Draco's lips within his own. A moment passed slowly, before Draco returned Samael's affections with vigour. Samael thrust his tongue inside Draco's mouth; exploring the crevices with wonder.

Eventually they pulled apart. "You worry too much," Samael declared breathlessly, "Your Father would never have forced you into an arranged marriage. Besides, if he had," Samael smiled softly, "He would have had me to contend with."

"Is that so," Draco questioned fondly, stroking Samael's cheek softly. "How did they even find out anyway?"

"Oh, Marvolo told them," Samael stated nonchalantly, causing Draco to choke in horror. Seeing this, Samael smirked widely. "Marvolo will not harm you, Dragon. He has known of my affection for you for years, and he will not instil my wrath by touching one hair upon your head."

Draco stared at Samael in disbelief. "That does nothing to relieve my fear of being eviscerated by your homicidal, protective, elder brother," he stated with incredulity.

Samael's eyes crinkled in amusement. "Honestly, I do not know why you are so bothered by my brother," Samael said calmly, "I would have thought my mother would have scared you more."

Instantly, Draco's face whitened, and his silver eyes widened even further. "She will torture me. I just know it. I have taken her little boy from her, for all she knows, I 've ruined you…Oh Circe, please don't leave me alone with her!"

Samael couldn't help it. The look of pure terror upon Draco's face had him burst into laughter. Samael could practically feel Draco's scowl and glare burn into him at the reaction, and his affronted expression only caused Samael to laugh even further.

Draco crossed his arms, and stared dispassionately at Samael. "Are you quite finished?" he questioned coldly, when Samael seemed to have calmed down into a small chuckle. Emerald eyes glanced sideways at Draco's unamused face, and he smirked. 'No one bit apologetic,' he thought with irritation. 'It's not as if my mother would harm Samael, she wouldn't dream of it. But Bellatrix would gladly use me as target practice.'

"Draco," Samael said softly, and lightly grasped the blonde's wrist. "My mother shall not harm you. Father has informed me that she and your mother have been planning our bonding ceremony since Marvolo told them."

Draco couldn't stay angry at him, not when Samael's voice was so sincere, and his argument was so valid. Sighing softly, Draco pulled his wrist from Samael's grasp and intertwined his fingers with Samael's instead. "They've been planning our bonding, have they?" Draco asked wryly. "Surely we should have some say over it."

Samael merely rose an eyebrow, and Draco realised his mistake. "No, no, how silly of me. Our mothers have everything in hand. I genuinely believe they would hex us if we even attempted to suggest a colour theme."

Samael snorted softly, but didn't deny the statement in the slightest. Samael pulled them down, so they were both laying upon the mattress. "I do not mind what they do," he admitted quietly. Draco glanced at Samael from the corner of his eye, the expression on Samael's face could only be described as serene. "I highly doubt they will make a farce of our bonding, and even if they do, we will still be bonded with the Suicide Bond."

Samael's mouth twitched in amusement, and Draco rolled his eyes. "I was seven when I came up with that name, Samael. I thought that the Suicide Bond was an apt name." Samael merely grinned, and Draco tightened his grip on Samael's hand. Pausing, he licked his lips nervously. "You want to spend the rest of your life with me?" His voice soft – unsure.

Samael locked eyes with him. "Should I really have to state the obvious, Dragon?" he questioned dryly. "I would not spend eternity with any other." Draco rather thought Samael would have said more if he hadn't silenced him with a kiss.

By the time midnight came, the two were Slytherins stood outside the oak door. Draco glanced questioningly at his lover with 'are you ready?' painted upon his face. Samael nodded assuredly, raised his free hand, and rapped loudly on the door. Draco spared a small smile, before the door was flung open.

Dolores stood in the doorway, her face as pink as her fluffy bathrobe as she glared at the two students. "What is it?!" she thundered, before recognition spread across her face. Her blush darkened, and she lightly fluffed her permed hair. "Oh, Mr Malfoy, Mr Lestrange, whatever can I do for you at such a later hour?" she simpered.

Samael straightened his stance, and took a step forward. "We are terrible sorry for disturbing you, but we are concerned with the legislation Lord Slytherin is attempting to pass." Samael's face was painted with distress. Nervously, he bit his lip. "I think it would be best that we spoke in private."

Immediately, Dolores opened the door further and motioned for them to enter. "Of course, of course," she answered swiftly, "Please do sit down." Samael smiled gratefully, and sat on the small settee. Draco sat beside him. Dolores pierced them with watery blue eyes. "Do tell me whatever the matter is."

Samael shifted awkwardly in his seat, and rapped his fingers against the raven on his cane. Dorlores distractedly watched the action. "My Father….Our fathers," Samael amended, whilst gesturing between Draco and himself. "Are under the belief that Lord Slytherin is correctly addressing the matter of magical beings."

Dolores' eyes practically gleamed with triumph. "And what exactly do you consider the correct way to address these creatures?" she asked delicately.

Samael glanced nervously at the ground, before staring intently upon the witch's face. "We believe that Lord Slytherin is being too liberal with his ideas, and must be informed of the…problems concerning his liberalism."

Dolores smiled warmly at the two Slytherins, and smoothed a crease in her dressing gown. "Well," she paused, and glanced at the two students. "I believe I have someone whom you can speak to, and they will be able to alieve your concerns."

Samael beamed with happiness, "Thank you, Professor Umbridge." Samael took a quick look around the room. "May I borrow a parchment and quill?" he enquired, "So that I can take all the details down," he explained.

Dolores nodded encouragingly, and swiftly summoned the aforementioned items, along with an inkpot. Samael reached for the quill, but Dolores cleared her throat. "No, no, dear," she simpered lightly, "This is a dictaquill; there's no need for you to take notes yourself."

Samael's smile widened, "How ingenious," he remarked in an impressed voice. Dolores practically brimmed with pride.

She settled herself comfortably in her chair, and cleared her throat once more. "Oswald Beauchamp, Head of the Magical Beings Department, had produced a compelling essay regarding the devastating impact these liberalistic ideas will wrought." Instantly, the ferociously pink-feathered quill began scratching Dolores' words upon the parchment. She smirked widely, "Of course, he only released it to his closest friends, not everyone understands the importance, you understand?"

Samael shared a glance with Draco, and the silver-haired teen rolled eyes at the woman's hypocrisy. The quill impatiently tapped against the parchment, creating a large black mark. Dolores huffed angrily, and snatched the quill from the air. The two Slytherins eyed the action with amusement, although they did not let this show.

Dolores smiled in embarrassment, and smoothed her hair down. "Yes, I'll just write the essay title down for you now," the witch hurriedly scrawled the information down.

Samael smiled with gratification, and edged forward in his seat. "Professor, who exactly did Mr Beauchamp share this information with?"

Dolrores glanced up from the parchment, and stared quizzically at the teen. "Oh, just a few of his confidants." She smiled a saccharine smile, which Samael returned.

"Write their names," he sharply commanded.

Dolores pierced him with narrowed eyes. "I shall not betray confidences, Mr Lestrange," she proclaimed icily. If possible, Samael's smile increased in its sweetness.

"Oh, I was rather hoping you would say that, Dolores," he stated happily, and levelled his wand to her head. Her eyes widened comically, and she made a mad scramble for her wand, which lay upon the table beside her.

"Imperio," he intoned quietly, and smirked triumphantly as the woman's face glazed over. Draco watched Samael's movements with rapt attention, and squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

"Now Dolores, dear," Samael commanded softly. His face was blissful, as he revelled in the magic. "Write down the names of yours and Oswald Beauchamp's confidants." Immediately, the woman complied; hastily scribbling names upon the parchment.

Draco gently stroked Samael's neck, and delighted at the shiver which it evoked. Samael sent him a sharp look, but Draco's face portrayed innocence. "What?" the Malfoy enquired amusedly, "I'm not interfering with your task."

Samael raised an eyebrow, but made no effort to stop Draco's actions. The Malfoy almost crowed in triumph. The mere fact Samael pulled away signified his victory, yet Draco schooled his expression. Leaning closer to Samael until their thighs were pressed against each other's. "Tell me," Draco whispered into Samael's ear, knowing all too well that his breath was hot and quick. Samael shivered involuntarily, yet pretended to be unaffected. "Tell me," Draco repeated, and paired his breath with a light hand upon Samael's knee.

The raven-haired teen's breath was becoming heavier, and his emerald eyes were dilated with want. Draco smiled at the reaction. "Tell me how long it will take until the witch is dead."

Dark emerald eyes bore into his, and Samael grinned. Draco could begin to feel Magical Influence from the imperius curse taking its effect on him. 'Although, it could just be Samael himself,' he mused.

"Do you want her to die so badly?" Samael questioned lightly.

Draco shook his head gently, and smiled a feral smile at the raven-haired teen. "Not at all," he answered quietly, whilst making small circles on Samael's inner thigh. "What I want is to watch you kill her."

Samael inhaled sharply, and clenched his jaw tightly. Fingers lazily continued their path, and Draco could hardly contain the satisfied smirk that curled his lips.

It took a moment for Samael to realise the silence.

Dolores had stopped writing. Her watery blue eyes were glazed over as she stared in Samael's direction. Reaching across the distance, Samael grasped the parchment from the woman's limp grasp, and cast his roaming gaze over the list.

He shook his head slowly, with a small smirk on his face. "Oh, well that is a surprise," he murmured quietly, before abruptly standing. Bowing shallowly at the waist, Samael graced the witch with a smile. "Thank you for your time, Dolores."

Draco snorted quietly to himself. 'Ever the gentleman, eh?' he thought to himself.

"Dolores, dear," he enquired gently, and the woman slowly looked upwards. "Give me your wand," he instructed, and she hurriedly complied. The woman's wand sent a warm thrum across his palm, and he smiled instinctively. "Now, Dolores, raise your hand to your head. That's it, good girl," he encouraged her mockingly. "

A delighted smirk spread across Draco's face, once he realised Samael's intention. 'Oh, you naughty boy,' Hurriedly, he stood to his feet and stalked towards the pink-clad witch. Samael rose an eyebrow in enquiry.

Draco merely brushed his slacks, lazily, and cast a pointed look towards Samael. "I did say I wanted to watch."

Samael's eyes fluttered shut, and he raised the borrowed wand so that the tip was pressed against the woman's forehead. Opening his eyes, he locked gazes with the blonde. "Avada Kedavra," he intoned heavily. Vibrant green flashed throughout the room, highlighting the blonde's hungry face.

Samael shuddered involuntarily, and he glanced at the lifeless body on the floor with a dispassionate gaze. Crouching down, he slipped the wand into her limp hand.

"We should leave," he told the blonde, "No doubt, Dumbledore has wards to alert him of any Unforgiveables." Draco nodded, and stepped over the woman's body to remove the parchment from Samael's hand. Easily, he grasped those familiar fingers with his own, and led them out of the door.

Once the door had shut behind them, the blonde saw the topmost name and chuckled to himself. "Arthur Weasley, you truly are an insipid man."

Samael only squeezed his hand tightly and smiled. "I thought you would appreciate it."

Draco pushed Samael against the wall of the darkened corridor. Smirking lasciviously, he pressed himself into the raven-haired teen's body. "Shall I show you just how appreciative I am?"

Samael's only reply was a low moan, as he pushed his hips closer.

Pale, blue eyes stared gravely at the sight of the woman's limp body. Shaking his head softly, he slowly lowered himself to the ground, and felt her wrist for a pulse to little avail. "Dolores," he muttered quietly, yet could not help but feel a small flare of glee well inside him.

It was hardly a secret that the only reason Cornelius had allowed the woman inside Hogwarts, was to keep any eye on its Headmaster. Cornelius had been ever so frightfully hostile ever since the security of Hogwarts was breached…

"Flobberworms!" he cursed quietly. This was hardly going to redeem Hogwarts as the safest place in Britain, if its own professors were murdering themselves within twelve hours of arriving. Cornelius was going to have a field day.

Unless…

Well, he could always move her body elsewhere. How was anyone to know? It would surely reflect better on the school, and, in turn, himself. Contemplative, he shifted onto his other knee and groaned quietly as the bones creaked with the movement.

Hogsmeade would be too close, perhaps outside the Ministry? But, that wouldn't work. She was dressed in her bedclothes, why she wanted to be remembered this way was beyond him.

With a flick of the wrist, the clothes she was wearing previously in the day floated into the room. "Depello!" he incanted firmly, and averted his eyes as her bed-clothes removed themselves from her body. "Gesto!" he subsequently intoned, and she was rec-clothed in her earlier garments.

Nodding in satisfaction, Dumbledore struggled to his feet. No-one could say that her hair or makeup was exactly stellar, how was anyone to know? Plus, he had never been one to get those spells correct anyway, no matter how often he practised.

The two red-heads sat beside one another. The taller of the two was busy demolishing a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs to pay much attention to his friend, yet he had the vague feeling that he was upset. Scrunching his eyebrows together, he lowered his fork slightly. "What's wrong?" he mumbled between mouthfuls.

Robert glanced up to his friend, and shook his head with a sigh. "It's…" Trailing off, he stared forlornly at the Slytherin table. "I don't know what to do, Ron," he admitted quietly. "I really like this person, but they act like I'm nothing. Less than that, like I'm dirt on their shoes!"

Ronald Weasley thought the answer was quite obvious. "Mate, the bird's not worth it," he said simply, and returned to his eggs.

Robert's face twisted with irritation. "You can't say that!" he hissed angrily, and Ron looked up in confusion. Robert slumped limply in his seat. "It's not their fault exactly," he explained. "I don't really know them, and I think I've made a bad impression. I have repeatedly insulted their friends."

Ron cast a sad look towards his cooling breakfast, and placed his fork on the table with finality. "Look, Robert," he began, "I don't know what you expect me to do. If you haven't been kind to her friends, she's not gonna like you. You need to make her forget about all the bad stuff, and make her see that you're not a complete prat."

A slow smile stretched across Robert's face, and he nodded in agreement. "Thanks, Ron!" he enthused. "I don't know why I didn't think of that before. It seems so obvious now, but I was just stuck in a rut and couldn't' think how to get out."

Ron just sent Robert a bewildered look. "Why you're putting so much effort into one girl though, mate, is beyond me," he stated in a bemused tone, before quickly shoving a forkful of egg into his mouth before he needed to answer another one of Robert's questions.

Robert simply laughed at Ron's ignorance, and patted him on the shoulder. "You'll see what I mean when you fall in love!"

"Love!" Ron choked on his egg at Robert's exclamation. Coughing wildly, he stared at Robert as if he had grown a second head. "None of that's happening anytime soon!"

Robert just chuckled to himself, and sent a beaming smile to his favourite Slytherin who had just walked into the Great Hall. Samael caught Robert's eye, and he sent a curt nod and sharp glare in response. Robert almost flinched at the dismissal and open antagonism the Lestrange was displaying.

Things were worse than he thought.

Eagle-eyed, he watched as Samael took his seat between Malfoy and Parkinson, and offered both a welcoming smile. Parkinson was practically brimming with happiness with Samael's action, and Robert felt his heart freeze.

'Is Samael dating that pug-faced snake?' he thought darkly, and glared as the girl pressed herself against Samael's arm in order to reach the butter. 'How dare she?!' Robert tightened his fists in anger, and began wishing dearly that he could tear her from Samael's side. The irritating girl was now talking to Zabini, but Robert knew that she was just itching to hold Samael's hand.

Robert was almost relieved with the fact that Samael was ignoring the girl, and was instead methodically slicing a banana and smiling at something Malfoy had said. 'Malfoy,' he though vehemently. How could he monopolise Samael? What did Malfoy have, that he didn't? 'At least,' he thought with satisfaction, 'Malfoy can never have Samael. The Malfoys would never approve of a gay son.'

'Samael would never date Malfoy though,' he mused silently, 'Malfoy is too immature,' Robert idly grabbed an apple from the platter in front of him. 'And he has a pointed face, and a skinny body, and his hair is too bright.'

Robert was distracted from his musings, however, with the sound of screeching owls. Glancing up, he saw Samael's recognisable snowy owl deposit the Prophet and a letter in the Lestrange's lap. Dearly wishing that he could read Samael's letter, he didn't see his own owl as it landed on the table. However, he paid for it when the foul beast nipped his finger with impatience.

Swearing loudly, he shooed the creature away and sucked his bleeding wound. Looking up, he saw that everyone was in muttering quietly to themselves, and staring ever so often at Umbridge's empty seat. Confusedly, he looked to Ron for an explanation.

Ron quickly supplied the answer. "She's gone and offed herself," he stated matter-of-factly. Robert didn't quite grasp what the Weasley said, so asked him to repeat it. "Umbridge killed herself in front of the Ministry."

"But why?" he enquired, with a faced screwed up in confusion.

Ron merely shrugged his shoulders. "Beats me, mate.

Robert thought that this was probably the most he was going to get from his friend, so returned to his Samael-watching. The Lestrange was looking grave as he closed the prophet, and stared at Umbridge's seat with a strange expression that Robert could not name. His pale fingers quickly opened the letter, and he smiled briefly before it vanished from his hand with a muttered word.

Robert frowned at this action, because no-one banished letters. 'It's just another thing that makes him so intriguing,' he thought brightly, before wondering who could have sent the letter that made Samael smile.

Marvolo glanced down at the piece of parchment that arrived in the early hours of the morning with a small smirk. Some of the people on the list Marvolo knew could be swayed with the correct incentive. Other, however, would have to be removed permanently in order to remove any possible problem they could pose.

Marvolo would be a liar if he said he didn't prefer the latter option. However, he could not exactly monopolise all of the names on the list, otherwise he would upset many of his followers. 'Not that they would ever voice their complaints,' he thought amusedly. No, he knew he should entrust some to his Death Eaters.

Pinching the bridge of his nose softly, he sighed. The problem was figuring out who to entrust these missions to. The significant number of his followers were unused to fighting since the war ended, so were unlikely to be of much help with dispatching with names. 'Though,' he mused, 'I doubt a simple Avada Kedavra is beyond them just yet.' Smirking, he sipped some Early Grey tea and rapped his fingers against the arms of the chair.

Rosier had been out of sorts since his public humiliation in April, so Marvolo supposed he should task him with killing the problematic names to keep him satisfied. Marvolo's mouth twitched in amusement, when he realised that his treatment of Death Eaters was similar to Samael's treatment of House Elves. If you're nice to them, they'll increase their loyalty. 'The only difference,' Marvolo thought, 'Is that Samael does not torture his House Elves.'

Parkinson had always been squeamish when it came to murdering people. However, Marvolo didn't choose him for his battle tactics, so he could never truly hold it against the wizard. Severus would most likely revel with the task, however, he could not risk his position at Hogwarts for such a frivolous task. Bulstrode, though, had always been an impressive fighter. 'Which will be useful when Rosier becomes arrogant, and forgets he cannot defeat five opponents.'

However, there is one name that neither he, nor Rosier or Bulstrode could claim. Smiling predatorily, he pulled on the strand of Lucius' magic that connected them both through the Dark Mark, and settled himself comfortably in his chair.

Minutes passed in silence, and he could feel his tea cooling through the thin china. Raising the rim to his lips, he took another sip of the liquid just as the familiar blonde appeared in the doorway. Raising his eyebrows at the Malfoy, Marvolo lowered the cup and smirked.

Lucius bowed deeply at the waist. "My lord," he murmured quietly.

Marvolo's smirk widened when he saw, that despite Lucius' best efforts, his silky hair had not been completely brushed at the back, and his robes were slightly askew. 'Ah, well I suppose it is quite early for him to be awake.'

"Lucius, I am glad that you were able to join me," he greeted, and indicated for the blonde to sit in the opposite armchair. The blonde complied, and was almost successful in hiding his curiosity and tiredness as he glanced at Marvolo. "I have a mission for you."

Lucius straightened at this; obviously interested in Marvolo's proposition. "Samael has informed me that there are several people within the Ministry, and beyond, who oppose my Magical Being Act and are resorting to manipulating Hogwarts children to pass it."

Lucius bristled with righteous anger, and opened his mouth to voice his protestations, yet Marvolo interrupted. "They attempted to do this by placing Dolores Umbridge as the Defence Professor. However, Samael has ensured that this did not go forward."

Lucius' brows furrowed, and Marvolo idly waved toward the Prophet that sat upon the desk. Lucius swiftly followed Marvolo's unspoken command, and his eyes widened as they roamed the page. Lowering the paper, he glanced at my lord. "I am sure you are proud," he commented, with poorly-concealed admiration.

Marvolo merely nodded. Samael had far exceeded his expectations months ago; this latest action just strengthened them. "Samael was able to acquire the list of those involved in this endeavour, before removing the problem." Lucius nodded; obviously seeing where this conversation was heading. "I have narrowed this list down to the people who can be persuaded against continuing with their opposition, which I would like you to perform."

"I would be honoured, My Lord," he intoned with a gracious smile.

"Other Death Eaters will remove those who will not be persuaded," Marvolo continued. "However, there is one person who I would like you personally dispatch." Lucius leaned forward in his seat, and glanced eagerly at the Dark Lord. Marvolo's could not help but smirk even wider. "Arthur Weasley," he drawled silkily.

Lucius blinked once, then twice in surprise, before a feral grin stretched his face. "Thank you, My Lord," he answered with anticipation practically dripping from his tongue.

Marvolo glanced at the blonde with fond amusement, and folded his hands. "Lucius," he caught the Malfoy's attention. "I know that you have waited a long time for this," Marvolo stated with empathy. After all, the details of the Malfoy-Weasley feud had long been made aware to him. "However, I do not think I need to tell you to not get caught."

Lucius met the Dark Lord's eyes with solemnity, and bowed his head graciously. "Of course not, My Lord."

Marvolo nodded his head curtly. "You may leave, Lucius," he stated with finality. "I look forward to hearing about your success in the Prophet."

The blonde only bowed once more, and left a final 'thank you, My Lord', before exiting the room. Marvolo shook his head once the man had departed, and took a sip of his tea, before wrinkling his nose in disgust. It had gone cold.

The sound of the door opening, had Marvolo straightening from his relaxed position. Familiar arms wound their way around his neck, and a chaste kiss was pressed to his jaw. "Visitors this early?" Regulus questioned. Marvolo nodded, and Regulus sighed softly. "Is this to do with Samael's floo call last night?"

Marvolo started in surprise. "You were awake?"

Regulus chose not to answer that, and instead asked. "So, did Samael do as you requested?"

Marvolo scoffed. "Of course he did," he answered arrogantly, "Samael would not shy away from any obstacle in our path."

Regulus cooed softly, and perched himself upon the arm of Marvolo's chair. Marvolo quickly wrapped an arm around Regulus' hips. "It's so adorable how Samael defends your honour," Regulus gently mocked.

Marvolo narrowed his eyes, but couldn't help but chuckle. "This was as much defending his own honour," he answered simply, and rested his head against Regulus' waist. "Samael has been studying the rights of Magical Beings since he re-entered Bellatrix's life. Plus," Marvolo smiled a small smile. "As much as Samael would hate to admit, he does genuinely care for those who have been supressed."

Regulus hummed in agreement. "Well, I have always advocated the underdog," he murmured, and he idly wondered if one of the reasons Samael was so invested in this cause was because he could liken himself to Magical Being.

Marvolo stared at Regulus shrewdly. "I have never been an underdog, Regulus," he stated matter-of-factly. "So why did you join my ranks?" Marvolo's teal eyes bore into Regulus' face, however, the Black did not waver under that stare.

Regulus smiled easily, and stroked the hand on his hip. "Because I heard that the fearsome, awe-inspiring, Dark Lord was devastatingly handsome."

Marvolo squeezed Regulus' hip gently. Glancing into his betrothed's face, Marvolo raised an eyebrow. "And was this fearsome Dark Lord devastatingly handsome?"

Regulus smirked devilishly. "He was so-so, I suppose." Marvolo scoffed, and roughly pulled Regulus onto his lap.

"Is that so?" Marvolo breathed into Regulus' ear. "A so-so Dark Lord would never have attracted you, my dear," he all but purred in the younger wizard's ear. "Now do stop trying to bait me, or we shall not leave this room till the afternoon."

"That's all the more incentive to stay," Regulus replied easily, and pointedly began shifting himself upon Marvolo's lap. Groaning lowly, Marvolo patted him impatiently on the thigh.

"I am warning you, Regulus," he stated with a predatory smile. "You better not start something you are unable to finish."

Regulus licked the Marvolo's neck ever-so-gently; eliciting a sharp intake of breath in response. "Oh, I am sure I've never been unable to finish you off," the younger wizard replied huskily, before ravishing the Dark Lord's mouth with his tongue and silencing him completely.

A/N: Hello everyone, as you may have seen from my earlier update, I will be going on a hiatus. I just found this chapter on my old laptop; seemingly incomplete from July 2015. I have just finished it, but it is likely going to be the last chapter from me as the author.

It's really sad and upsetting, and re-reading this chapter has just reminded me how damned proud I am of this and how much I enjoy it. I'm hoping to find someone to finish the story (using my outline), but If not, I'll try my best to get this finished for you, but my dissertation and work need to take priority at the moment.