WARNING: This is a slash story, which means it contains male/male erotic content involving adults. If you're not of legal age or are offended by such material, please go find something else to read.

TITLE: Losing
AUTHOR: Ceitlin Malefoy
EMAIL: ceitlin@riddle.co.uk
RATING: PG (c'est incroyable!)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Severus (pity), Voldemort (oh yeah), Dumbledore and, of course, Barty Crouch jr./Mad-Eye Moody (look, a new pairing! does anyone want them?). JKR does, et cétéra, et cétéra.
DEDICATION: for F. and George Harrison- you'll never leave our hearts.


*Stupid, stupid game*.

Sorry. I didn't mean it. Nothing He can think up could be stupid, nothing at all. *He Who's our Master, He Who's our Guide, I will never blaspheme His name*.


He looks at me again. He can be older, he can even be repulsive for me now, as I know he betrayed my Lord- still, I can't stop myself from staring at him.

Good. He'll think old eccentric Moody is observing him. Maybe he's even annoyed at this- they're on the same side, in his little clever mind, behind his lean, gorgeous body. Or maybe he's just thinking he's playing well the part the old fool assigned the new teacher... the old Auror. Without knowing he's just being observed by one of his fellows... if indeed he still thinks of himself, despite everything, as a Death Eater.

And he'll never understand my looks are the ones we would trade, once, in the cold air of the night, our cheeks reddened by the icy wind, he'll never ask again with lips and eyes to the dark sky of that days what was going on between us, the reason for that pure, welcome torture, and his last prayer won't be the feeling of my skin on his lips, so soft, so cold into that forbidden game in our empty forest. He'll never take me like snow on snow, never again we will see the mingled aura of our hair paint of fire and shadows our pillow, the stone of the floor where we had made love.

And what are now the leftovers of our past?

Perfect one, we once were young, but now we're dead.

And the body I wear this time, not for you, but for Him, so broken, so imperfect (*remember me, my beautiful one-*) just seal the destiny we both choose for us.

The sun has set to never rise again, for us, my love.


Soles occidere et redire possunt ;
nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux,
nox est perpetua una dormienda.

Gaius Valerius Catullus