is it complicated ... when someone wants you so much they kidnap you and your friends? (yeah, it's complicated)

is it complicated ... when someone wants you so much they kidnap you and your friends? (yeah, it's complicated)

Chapter 7

Previously on is it complicated ... when someone wants you so much they kidnap you and your friends? (yeah, it's complicated):

He felt like he blacked out for a moment (and how embarrassing—his first blow job with probably the hottest man alive and he fucking blacks out). When he comes too, Marvolo is smirking as he slides up his body, eyes flickering to the Potter Heir's lips.

Just waiting.

James makes the decision for him, linking their lips together, grasping at Marvolo's shoulders and moaning at the taste of himself on Marvolo's tongue. When they pulled back, Marvolo was still smirking. He hated that it looked so goddamn good on the Dark Lord. “You were so gorgeous, dear one, so pretty for me. Looked so beautiful when you came—a pure vision.” Marvolo whispered.

James blushed, grinning shyly.

“Well, you were pretty damn good looking down there as well.” James said. Marvolo hummed.

“I'm glad you think so, pretty one.” The Potter Heir flushed bright red, stomach tingling pleasantly, warmly. “Though I had nothing on you.”

“That's enough.” James whined, batting at the males chest. He flicked his wrist, and the boxers slid up his legs even though Marvolo was in the way. The male pulled back to stare with a curious look and if James was seeing correctly, a pout. James smirked, filing this information away for later.

He was surprised when a yawn shaped his mouth, blinking.

“Go to sleep, dear one.” Marvolo murmured. James already found his eyes closing; his recent orgasm had taken a lot out of him it seemed. He turned on his side, humming when there were fingers through his hair—though that could've been imaginary for all he knew—falling into unconsciousness.

Marvolo watched James sleep for a long moment before he stood and went to his desk to get some paperwork done. Though he knew two things for sure after the first taste of the Potter Heir.

He wasn't inclined to stop at just one taste.

And he'd kill for James.

Even more terrifying (at least to the Dark Lord who had only ever really thought of himself, he was selfish like that), was that he'd die for James Potter as well.

What a scary thought indeed.

When James awoke, he was surprised to find himself lying on something that wasn’t the comfy bed he’d come to find himself waking up to for the last few nights. His eyes squinted as he reached for the space next to him, frowning when his arm hung off the side and hit what felt like a soft rug. He sat up, rubbing at his eyes, moving his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. His face felt that weird ache that he usually got when he slept with his glasses on and he sighed. Fleamont was always going on about him not wearing his glasses to bed and just because they had magic to fix them, didn’t mean he could be lazy and not just put them on his bed side table.

Grinning slightly at his fathers voice ringing in his mind, he glanced around himself. Then the memories flooded him and a blush graced his face.

Merlin, Marvolo had given him a bloody blow job. The Dark Lord had given him a blow job.

And he wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Biting his lip, he swung his legs over the sofa and stood, wobbling a little before strength returned to his knees and he made his way towards the door.

“Not going to say goodbye, dear one?” An amused voice said from further in the room. James swallowed, turning to face the voice. Marvolo was lounging on his desk chair, his legs propped up on the edge, a smirk on his lips. His crimson eyes glittered smugly as they roved over him, sticking to his shoulder where—with a glance down—James could see a hickey clear as daylight on his skin.

He made a shocked noise and reached for his shirt, yanking it up. Marvolo sighed. “I—I didn’t know you were in here.” Then something registered in his mind and he shot Marvolo a narrow eyed look. “Were you watching me sleep?”

“Am I not allowed to watch my Consort? Especially when he’s so pretty?” Marvolo drawled, arching a flawless eyebrow. James wets his lips and sighed.

“It’s a bit creepy, Consort or not.”

“So you do admit you’re my Consort—”

“W-What—no!” James spluttered hastily, eyes wide. Marvolo frowned, turning away as he shuffled papers.

“Very well. Your friends should be in the library.” Marvolo dismissed.

James spluttered once more. “Wait—that’s it?”

“Despite what you think, Heir Potter, I am not in the habit of forcing on titles to someone that does not want them, no matter how horrifying you think I am. No means no and as you have so forcibly said, you do not want to be my Consort.” Marvolo told him, face blank as he looked up. James couldn’t help the flicker of hurt that ran through him at that; whilst Marvolo was in no means known to him and they weren’t as close as to have a proper connection that would’ve lead to James being Marvolo’s Consort—bar the things that had happened today (yesterday?)—he’d thought that Marvolo had … well, wanted him enough to chase after him.

It was stupid that he was feeling hurt at it. In all honesty, James should find it reassuring that Marvolo had seemingly given up and that he wasn’t so screwed in his morals, despite being a Dark Lord, that he would respect that when James said no, he meant no.

Marvolo seemed to notice the hurt on his face or in his eyes for his own softened considerably. James cleared his throat and turned around, reaching for the door. “Okay, I-I’ll go and find my friends—”

“Dear one.” Marvolo said gently. James froze. “Come here … please.” James knew that Marvolo wasn’t used to saying please as he imagined most people would be vying to finish the males concerns before he had even finished his sentence but the fact that he had added it despite it probably feeling strange on his tongue made James’s shoulders relax. Warmth curled delightfully in his stomach and he turned, head down as he walked over to Marvolo.

He was surprised when he was drawn onto Marvolo’s lap, the males legs no longer thrown elegantly over the desk. Fingers grasped his chin and lifted until he was staring into the crimson eyes of the Dark Lord. “You are hurt. I’ve upset you.” Marvolo stated, not questioned. James closed his eyes against the undeniable truth. “Look at my, dear one. Why are you upset?”

“Have you … given up? Do you—” he took a deep breath, “—do you not want me anymore?”

“What?” Marvolo frowned. “Why would I not want you anymore?”

“You stopped pushing straight away. As if … as if you’d had your fill earlier and now you don’t want me.” James whispered. Marvolo’s frown got larger. “I’m aware I’m stubborn and childish … so … i-it’s not a surprise.” James plastered a fake smile on his face that Marvolo didn’t buy for a moment.

"Hmm." Marvolo hummed, eyes roving slowly over James's face, seeming to commit it to memory. James lowered his eyes, feeling shy. No one looked at him like Marvolo did; like they wanted to know him. Like they wanted to just ... look at him, as if they were seeing something precious. Like they—they wanted him for more than what he could give them.

Marvolo speaking once more makes his gaze jerk upwards. "No." James pulled back a little, a confused frown on his face.

"No ...?" 

"No, I don't not want you anymore." Marvolo said. James stared at him for a long moment, blinked and then tilted his head to the side.

"You ... do still want me?" James whispers, sounding unsure.

Marvolo hummed in agreement. James bit his lip, lowering his head as a grin comes to his face, one full of sheepisness and shyness. He feels a little embarrassed for being so insecure. In Hogwarts, he'd always felt confident, never had time to be insecure in himself but in Slythrin Manor, he feels out of his depth.

Like he was stepping out into a place unknown to him.

Which he was in a way.

This, whatever was going on with Marvolo, was uncharted territory but he doesn't find himself minding. Nor wanting to stop.

"Oh." James murmured. Marvolo leaned forward, encasing James in his arms, nuzzling against his face, causing James to squirm, a giggle escaping him at the ticklish feeling. Marvolo smirked, pulling back. Then he gripped James's chin and lifted it.

James's breath hitched as Marvolo moved forward, connecting their lips. His eyes slide closed slowly and he slid his fingers through Marvolo's hair, gripping it between them and giving a little tug. Marvolo groaned and James pulled back. His eyes opened and he stared into crimson ones, smiling. 

He bit his lip before kissing Marvolo once more.

Then he stood, a slight skip in his step as he made his way to the door. He opened it and with one last glance at Marvolo, who was still staring at him with those mesmerising eyes, he left the room, the door shutting with a soft click behind him.

As he walked, the guard who had been waiting around the corner fell into step beside him.

Nothing else was said.

Sirius was walking through the gardens just outside Slytherin Manor, a slight frown on his lips. Rodolphus had barely been to the Manor for the last couple of days and despite his resistance in the male being near him and wanting the betrothal contact, he found himself missing the presence of the Lestrange Heir.

There was something to be said about how Sirius's eyes followed the male but Sirius himself wasn't willing to entertain any of those thoughts yet. Rodolphus was attractive, there was no denying that but it took more than just looks for Sirius to fall on his knees for a bloke (well, it was another matter entirely if he had firewhiskey in his system but even then he’d never gone further despite Hogwarts belief).

He hated that he was so drawn to the male, hated that he liked the way Rodolphus stared at him like he was the most precious person in the world. Like he was someone Rodolphus wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

No one had done that before.

It was strange. Peculiar. Unthinkable. He was a Black for Godric’s sake! People only wanted him if they could get something in return—sex, money, politic power, power in general. Even heirs if anyone outside found out about him being able to conceive. And yet … Rodolphus had only put forth that contract of marriage when Walburga found out.

To protect him.

And how pathetic was it that someone he’d barely known—who’d he’d only see at balls and gala’s, had never known personally, just of him—was willing to protect him when his mother, the one who’d birthed him, was supposed to love him, didn’t even do that. Didn’t want to do it. In fact, tried actively to hurt him.

It was a sobering thought that Rodolphus was so willing to throw his life away for him. Because he was. To most other purebloods, he was a blood traitor and they’d wonder why Rodolphus was marrying him when he had plently of other suitable pureblood ladies. They’d think there was something more to it. Or they’d think that Rodolphus had something done to him.

Sirius’s nose wrinkled at that thought. His eyes wander the garden, seeing the different flowers blooming—they must’ve had the house elves tending to them for they looked healthy, and none seemed to be dying. He crouched down next to a patch of roses. They were not the typical red ones but white. He liked these ones much better.

They used to bloom outside of Grimmauld Place, in one of the neighbouring houses front garden. He’d peer out of the windows and see them, wanting to nick one. And he had, on one of his more brave moments. That was the only time he’d remember Kreacher not snitching on him because he’d stolen one and gave it to Regulus. His little cherubic face had beamed with joy at the sight of it.

Sirius had told him to be careful as there were thorns on the stem. Regulus had heeded his words, though it wasn’t needed much due to the fact that Kreacher had popped in, snapped his fingers and the thorns had been removed. Regulus had taken it, took a sniff and giggled with delight.

That’d been before he’d gone to Hogwarts; before he’d been sorted into Gryffindor and Regulus seemed to drift further away from him. Before his father had become truly absent, before his mother’s harsh dismissal had become cruelty instead, doing everything in her power to make his life a living hell.

His fingers shook as he touched the fragile white petal, sighing. The sound whistled between his teeth. Pulling backwards, he sat down on his haunches and watched the flowers rustle in the wind. The breeze ruffled his hair and drew back the collar of his robe. He shivered and drew his knees to his chest, placing his arms around his legs.

“You’ll get a cold the longer you stay out here.”

A voice called after several long moments. Sirius jerked in surprise at the abruptness of it in the silence, turning his head. He saw Rabastan walking over. The male collapsed next to him.

“Yeah, well, I’ll be fine.” Sirius said. “A pesky cold won’t kill me.”

“But my brother will kill me if he finds out I let you get a cold by sitting outside.” Rabastan grumbled. He drew out his wand and gave it a flick. Instantly, a rush of warmth slivered over him, and he shivered for a completely different reason. The sudden change in temperature caused goosebumps to spread alongst his flesh beneath his robes.

“It wouldn’t be your fault though?” Sirius frowned; gaze stuck on the flowers.

“Perhaps not. But, you are to be my brother in law. And family is everything to the Lestrange’s.” Rabastan told him. He nodded to the flowers. “Are these your favourite? White roses?” Sirius hesitated before he shrugged.

“I haven’t seen many flowers. But I do like these ones the best so far. Out of all the ones I’ve seen.” He told the younger brother of his betrothed. Rabastan’s tongue flicked over his bottom lip as if it was a thoughtful gesture he did when he was thinking. Sirius blinked at him, wondering if Rodolphus did the same when he was holed in his office and working on ancient artifacts and its information in dusty tomes.

“Would you like them at the wedding?” Rabastan asked. Sirius drew back, eyes widening at the blunt statement.

“Pardon?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I said, would you like them at the wedding? Once you have it of course. It doesn’t have to be decided now, nor planned.” Rabastan hastily corrected himself when he saw the wide-eyed look Sirius was staring at him with.

“Why … why are you asking?”

Rabastan’s lips curled into a frown. “He may not look it, but Rod is terrible at designing anything nor picking anything himself. If you left him to his own devices when it comes to weddings, he’d want it to be yellow and green. Mint green.” Rabastan’s voice held disgust. Sirius gasped in delight.

“No. Are you serious?”

Rabastan snorted. “No, that’s you.” Sirius paused before he burst into laughter, curling over his knees as his body shook with the force of his mirth. Rabastan started to chuckle.

“No, really. Are you joking?”

“Nope. He’s really that bad.” Rabastan smirked. “Besides, white roses would be good for weddings. They’re white for one and a lot of weddings primarily use that colour.”

“But … why?” Sirius asked.

“Well, white roses were believed to be the original rose colour. They are associated with marriages and new beginnings, such as the beginning of a married life. But their beauty has made them a gesture of remembrance. Their colour conveys respect, pays homage to new starts and expresses hope for the future. White roses have been said to be a perfect way to say ‘I’m thinking of you’. White roses also mean purity, chastity and innocence.” Rabastan explained. “Pretty romantic, huh?”

“Uh … yeah.” Sirius murmured, slightly overwhelmed with the amount of information Rabastan had bombarded him with.

“Sorry, I’m coming on a bit too strong, huh?” Rabastan rubbed his neck, chuckling awkwardly.

“Just a bit.” Sirius smiled at him to take the sting out of his words. If Rabastan was anything like his brother, he’d be overthinking everything he said after this, and Sirius didn’t want that happening. He liked Rabastan; he seemed kind. And Sirius needed that right now.

“I just … do not want Rodo making anything choices.” Rabastan admitted. “He’s shit at them. He wouldn’t listen to me. But he’d listen to you.” His eyes go to Sirius, and he gives a wry smile. “No idea why. I mean you’re cute, but not my type.”

“Gee, thanks.” Sirius drawled. Then what he says registered. “Hey, I’m so not cute! I’m hot, sexy, gorgeous. Not cute. Yuck.”

“Adorable.” Rabastan deadpans.

Sirius purses his lips to hide his smile, unsurprised when the two of them burst into laughter a few seconds later. He shakes his head after a few moments to rid himself of the full feeling in his chest and reaches for one of the roses, plucking it. He grimaces at the sound of the snap and then hands it to Rabastan.

The male blinked at it and took it in surprise. Cradled it like it was something precious.

“I know you may have some reservations about me. About this going on with Rodolphus. But know that I’m not … I’m not against this. I just … wished I could’ve been able to pick him myself rather than getting picked out of a line light. You know?” Sirius said, huffing a breath between his teeth, the sound whistling from his mouth.

“That I do understand.” Rabastan nodded. “Luckily, our mum was one that wasn’t a stickler for the old pureblood rules such as arranged and in some cases forced marriage. So, I get to choose. So did Rodo, and he would’ve loved to make sure you got to choose someone on your own, even if it wasn’t him, but the cards dealt were shitty and he had to throw his hand in too soon.” Rabastan murmured. Sirius rested his chin on his knee.

Rabastan continues. “But Rodo … he chose you. Years ago, he chose you. And he’s stuck with that choice no matter how many times people have tried to force him to settle down. He chose you and he waited for you. He would’ve kept waiting.”

“I didn’t ask him too.”

Rabastan smiled, a small, sad thing. “You didn’t have to.” The statement is a whisper but it’s as if the males shouting it in his ears. Rabastan stood, hand still cradling the white rose. He gives Sirius a comforting look. “You’re right, I do have reservations about this. About you and Rodo, about you both. But he’s happy that you’re here, he’s happy in what you have now. You don’t have to push yourself into something that’ll only make you unhappy in the long run.”

“What’re you saying?” Sirius tilted his chin up, looked the younger Lestrange in the eyes. Rabastan gives a one armed shrug.

“Don’t go jumping in. Not unless, or until, it’s something you want. And most of all,” Rabastan looked back at the Manor, his lips going thin, “don’t break my brothers heart.” And then he walked away, his footsteps silent in the sound of the wind.

Sirius shivered, drawing his arms closer around himself.

Even when the sky grows dark, the clouds rotate to cover the sun and the air grow damp and heady as it gets to nightfall, Sirius sits there and thinks about that conversation.

‘He would’ve kept waiting.’

‘I didn’t ask him too.’

‘You didn’t have to.’

You didn’t have to.

Didn’t have to.

Godric, Rodolphus Lestrange couldn’t get anymore fucking perfect, could he?