aoifene: (happy bday)
[personal profile] aoifene
It is embarrassing that I haven't posted fic for so long that I've forgotten how to code things here on LJ! *headdesk* I am obviously made of fail. But I am finally posting some FIC and an UPDATE at that. How can I not when it is [ profile] kit84's birthday (er, it was but this still counts! I am just really slow)?! Kit, luv, I know you don't read H/D anynmore. Hell, you might not even remember this 'verse but I promised you long ago that the prequels would be written for your birthday. So here is my annual blood sacrifice birthday gift to you! I hope you still remember enjoy it! ♥

Title: The Third Sin 3/7 of The Seven Sins Arc)
Author: Aoife Malfoy [ profile] aoifene
Pairing: Eventual H/D
Genre: Dark/Humour
Rating: NC-17 for language, violence and sex (in later chapters)
Beta: the always lovely [ profile] jamie2109
Warnings: AU. Post HBP. (Yes, going old school)
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JKR, only borrowing for my own twisted means.

o1 | o2 | o3 | o4 | o5 | o6 | o7

o3- Sloth | Acedia

A strained silence met Draco as he entered the room that Potter had disappeared into. Sneering at the reddening face of the Weasel King, he quickly sat down on the safest empty seat, which happened to be the one next to Lupin, who in turn offered him a wan, tired smile. This, of course, meant that he’d have to sit next to Granger but he was fairly sure she could restrain herself from ravishing him on the breakfast table so he wasn’t overly concerned. In fact, so unconcerned was he that he actually winked at the frowning girl and nearly cackled in glee as the action earned him two amusing things. A growl from a now purple-faced Weasley and a sharp glare from Granger.

“You are unbelievable.”

Draco turned and rolled his eyes as he was met with Potter’s ever-present scowl.

“I’m sure you didn’t mean that as a compliment but I'll happily misunderstand you and take it like one anyway,” Draco informed him as he reached for the toast and began to help himself to the surprisingly delicious array of breakfast foods laid out on the table. There was an assortment of muffins, scones, bacon, fruit and several kinds of eggs. Point one to the Order. At least if he had to put up with the appalling company, he would never go to bed on an empty stomach again. He wrinkled his nose in distaste as he remembered the many nights he'd had to go through that when his supplies had run low and couldn’t chance going anywhere to replenish it. It was extremely unpleasant.

“Why the hell is he here? Why does he have to eat with the rest of us? Can’t we just keep him in that room and feed him scraps through a slot or something? I mean it’s the Ferret for fuck’s sake!” Ron exploded, knocking off Lupin’schair in his anger.

“I can’t say your brand of hospitality surprises me, Weasel. After all, that’s probably what you do for your houseguests at home, right?” Draco raised an eyebrow as he continued to nonchalantly slather his slice of bread with jam. Why should he starve just because the Weasel King wanted to throw a hissy fit?

“See? Even now he’s insulting me.” He pointed an accusing finger at Draco, who merely rolled his eyes.

“Technically you insulted him first, Ron,” Remus pointed out tiredly.

“I don’t care, Professor! That git is evil and I say we chuck him out or lock him in.”

“Now, I hardly think that’s called for. We can’t keep him locked away forever,” Remus replied, looking as if he was praying dearly for divine intervention and if that wasn’t readily available a quick death though Draco didn’t quite know whose death he was wishing for.

“Why not? He’s a Death Eater. He should be in Azkaban anyway. You know that’s where they’ll put him after what he did.’”

“First of all, I have never been a Death Eater.” Draco’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he tugged on his sleeves and showed his unmarked arm. “And what exactly is it that I did, Weasley, that would warrant such a punishment?”

“Are you joking?” Ron scoffed as he clenched his fists. “You killed Dumbledore!”

“I think the mere fact that I am sitting right here across from Potter and Dumbledore’s own men, relatively safe and unharmed will refute that statement,” he pointed out deftly as he took a bite of his toast and nearly closed his eyes in bliss as his tongue exploded with the taste of raspberry goodness. Point two to the Order. Their breakfast tasted delicious! Definitely better than the fare he’s had the past few months and dare he say it, even back at the Manor.

“That’s what I’m saying! We should be punishing him.” The Weasel King turned to Potter on his left.“Come on, Harry! You of all people should want to kick the Ferret out. He might not have killed Dumbledore but-“

“There’s no might about it, Weasley. My wand is clean,” Draco interjected through gritted teeth.

“But your hands aren’t! You led the Death Eaters into Hogwarts! Into school! My brother got bitten by your friend, Fenrir.”

“I fixed a cabinet,” Draco snapped back, his hand tightening around the slice of bread in his hand, sending a shower of crumbs to the floor.

“And at the same time unleashed hell!” Ron slammed his fists down the table, sending food everywhere.

Draco shot up to his feet and yelled the truth right back at the Weasel’s face. “And even now I think that it was worth it!”

“You fucking arsehole! My brother was hurt and forever disfigured because of you,” Ron snarled, lunging at Draco with such viciousness that his chair clattered to the floor.

“Enough!” Remus growled, once again reaching the end of his tether with the lot of them. “Ron, I know how you must feel and how badly you want revenge for the wrongs that have been done to your family, but if you’re seeking for justice this isn’t it. Bill would be horrified at such behavior, especially since Draco wasn’t the one to actually harm him.”

“He still made it possible. He’s not innocent. Can’t you see? I refuse to believe he’s entirely blameless.”

Remus merely shook his head, his voice still firm and brooking no argument. “No one is saying he is, but in this war who isn’t? We’ve all done things to atone for, actions and words we regret. That doesn’t mean we need to always resort to anger and violence for a resolution.”

“I still think he’s an evil git and he shouldn’t be trusted,” Ron grumbled as he glared at Draco who sneered at him right back.

“I know.” Remus placed a placating hand on his shoulder. “And that’s warranted, too, but don’t let yourself be consumed with all this. The universe always rights itself. Eventually all wrongs will be corrected.” Remus smiled tiredly. “His coming here should be proof enough of that.”

“”Well, as lovely as this touching Gryffindor moment is-“


His name was whispered but it carried the weight of impatience and it wasn’t without anger. He knew that he should stop testing the werewolf or any of them really, before they snapped and he was flat on his arse outside the door. However, knowing and doing were two completely separate things, and in his case, more often than not, they worked mutually exclusively of each other.

He forced himself to swallow his initial acrid response but continued to glare at everyone else in the room, and the next words out his mouth were far from congenial. “You said it yourself. He insulted me first. I am merely replying in kind.”

“There is wisdom in turning the other cheek once in awhile.”

“For a Gryffindor maybe,” Draco harrumphed, unimpressed.

“And you’re currently living in a house full of them, and will be doing so for an undetermined period of time,” Remus said blandly. “You’d be a poor excuse for a Slytherin if you didn’t heed that fact.”

Draco bristled at the affront, but at the same time he couldn’t ignore the truth in it and so he merely nodded his head and took his seat quietly.

Ron looked like he was about to protest violently once again but a stern look from Remus stopped the words from coming. Instead he sat down heavily on his chair like a sulking child.

The rest of breakfast resumed in strained silence.


Draco sighed as he sank heavily onto the couch, grimacing at the cloud of dust that the action generated. He groaned and, not for the first time, fervently wished for his wand. It had been days since he’d first arrived in the blasted house and he was no closer to being trusted by the lot of them. He could see the logic in their mistrust, of course, but it still didn’t stop him from being irritated by the inconvenience.

Besides, he was bored.

There was really nothing to do. He couldn’t do magic which effectively cut down his list of possible entertainment by more than half. He didn’t have a potion’s lab, so he couldn’t work on his many ongoing projects. As flea infested and dangerous as Spinner’s End was, at least it had a well-stocked workroom. The books in the library didn’t catch his fancy and the ones that his cousin Regulus had were old Hogwarts textbooks. Even he wasn’t desperate enough for that. He supposed he could try talking to the other occupants in the house to amuse himself but with his luck and both the Weasel and Potter’s temperament, he’d be nursing a shiner within minutes of uttering a semi-congenial hello.

He was about to give up and just spend the rest of the afternoon paging through his cousin’s outdated version of Quidditch Though the Ages yet again, when something brown caught his eyes. Curious, he sank further down onto the couch and tilted his head to the side. What was that on the floor behind the bed?

He bent down awkwardly to retrieve it, his hands grappling uselessly at the dusty floor twice before he was able to grasp it. He blinked curiously at the book in his hand. He turned it over carefully, It was a nondescript thing, made out of bound leather that was worn and ragged at the edges. He smoothed his hands over the cover and awaited the sharp tingle of the wards that were surely safeguarding the book. To his surprise, nothing was forthcoming. Perhaps since Regulus was long gone, his wards had lost their power.

Shrugging, he cautiously untied the loose leather strap that was wound around it. It looked like a diary of some sort, but he refused to believe that any relative of his was namby pamby enough to write down his feelings like a bleeding girl.

He opened the book carefully, mindful of its age. Elegant script began to appear on the page.

The Black Heir Chronicles

Only those who know the way may enter.

His brow furrowed in bewilderment. What the bloody hell was it? A Black family spell book? He’d never heard of one before. But just as he was getting excited at the prospect of learning something cool and useful for once, ink began to appear on the page again. This time the script looked like it was hastily scribbled, completely unlike the careful loops of the first message.

Stay out of this, Sirius! For goodness’ sake, you, too, Mum!

Draco rolled his eyes as he closed the book with a snap. It was a bleeding diary! He huffed as he let the book fall to the floor with a thump. What a disappointment! And here he thought he was going to be uncovering something cool, like a long lost recipe for a potion or a really dark and nifty spell. Wasn’t Regulus supposed to be a Death Eater? He snorted in disgust. No wonder he got cold feet in the end, he thought dismissively, ignoring the fact that he had pretty much done something similar just recently.

But the days were crawling by, with no way to get word from Severus, and everyone in the house hated his guts, except for maybe Lupin (and even that belief was sorely tested at times, especially with the way Lupin had taken to glaring at him recently when he and Weasel King got into of one their inevitable spats) and he was bored.

Mind-numbingly so.

And that never boded well for any Malfoy. After all, it was one of his ancestors that set off that dreadful Bubonic plague because of a free afternoon spent idly playing with a bunch of field rats. Boredom and Malfoys did not go together. In fact, Draco was pretty sure that was the main reason why his inevitable fights with the Weasel were so…inevitable. He really needed to find something else to occupy his time; either that or get ready for the pounding he was going to eventually receive after insulting Weasel’s mother for the hundredth time.

He was ready to give in to madness and pick up the Quidditch through the Ages for a fifth time when he remembered something. The diary! He shot up from his bed and quickly bent down to retrieve the dusty book. Might as well get some amusement out of this, he thought grimly.

It’s a lot quieter in the house with Siri- with him gone. Mum won’t stop going on about him but even I can see how upset his leaving has made her. I don’t think she actually believed he would do it. I don’t think any of us did. I still catch myself barging into his room to kip his good gloves on cold days, only to remember there was no reason to sneak around since the room would be empty and his stupid gloves wouldn’t be there along with his stupid self.

It’s too quiet.

Draco rolled his eyes as he turned the page. That entry must’ve been written right after his cousin, Sirius, had abandoned the family. He’d always wondered what could’ve driven his cousin to leave the only home he knew. Seems like even his brother, Regulus, had been kept wondering. Draco was silent for a long time as he flipped through several more pages until a name caught his eye.

Bellatrix was at supper again tonight. She was babbling again about the society she’s a part of. Deatheats or something. Normally I’d tune her out to concentrate on finding the perfect time to excuse myself from the table but then she said something interesting. She said that this new lord, this Voldemort, has the power to reunite the Purebloods and restore order to our old traditions and mend broken families. I-I wonder if he can really do that. I wonder if there really is something out there powerful enough to bring us all back together. This old house was never meant for three…

Draco was about to turn the page once more when a loud crash from above followed by a frightening growl made him shoot up from his bed. What on earth could that be? Quickly, he stood up and marched to the door, irritated by the interruption.

“What is that noise?” Draco demanded as he poked his head out into the hallway.

“Get back, Malfoy! Stay in your room and lock it,” Potter growled from the doorway of his own bedroom.

“Why?” Draco bristled as he glared at Potter from across the hall. “And who is doing all that growling? I can’t possibly sleep with all this-“

“It’s the full moon, you idiot! Professor Lupin doesn’t have his Wolfsbane.” Potter snapped at him. “Snape isn’t here so we have to make do.” He chuckled a little when he caught a glimpse of Draco’s horrified expression. “Don’t worry. The room will contain him and if it doesn’t...well, that’s why I told you to lock your door.”

“You can’t possibly expect me to stay here while there’s a deranged werewolf loose in the hallways!” Draco gasped as his hold on the door tightened.

“He is not deranged!” Potter snarled, the anger in his face stark against the darkness of the hall. “And if he is more wolf than man right now, it’s all because of Snape! He could’ve sent more supply when he sent you here, instead all we have is your useless, sorry arse!”

Draco glared at him, the careless insult thrown in his face stiffening his spine and making his hands curl into tight fists. “Did you even stop to think for one second that the reason Professor Snape didn’t send any more Wolfsbane is because he thought you lot would benefit more from a fresh stock?” His lip curled in disdain at the confusion that crossed Potter’s stupid face. “Who the hell do you think helps Snape with the Wolfsbane, idiot? It’s a two person potion, but of course, you wouldn’t know that.”

“You? You know how to make Wolfsbane?” Potter stared at him incredulously.

Draco only met his stare, unwilling to dignify a question that was so saturated with disbelief.

“You’d make it then?” Potter asked him urgently, striding across the hall. “Not now obviously but for next time.”

Draco held Potter’s eyes for a moment longer, savoring the desperation he found there before he released his answer and his grip on the door.


o4- Greed | Avaritia

**The Third Sin according to the writings of Christian monk, Evagrius Ponticus, was Acedia or Sloth. It is said to be the third of the seven deadly sins that lead to damnation. Sloth is said to be invoked by the demon, Belphegor, and eternal punishment is in the form of running continually at a top speed

-The Seven Deadly Sins by

AN: Yes, this is a story with an ending already written. These prequels were requested by my lovely [ profile] kit84 to provide a better insight to the Seventh Sin. You can read the end if you wish or wait until the remaining sins have been committed. It is, as always, your choice.

Also, forgive my rustiness. It truly has been awhile. I hope you all enjoyed it. <3

Date: 2009-09-03 09:57 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Wow, I love these stories, great work. I can't quite decided whether to read the last two or not... ruin the suspense or not? When will the next chapter be up? Love this fic!

Date: 2009-11-12 01:07 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thank you! I'm delighted you enjoyed it.

Date: 2010-01-07 02:26 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Draco held Potter’s eyes for a moment longer, savoring the desperation he found there before he released his answer and his grip on the door.


I absolutely love how you portray Draco and cannot wait to read more of the story.

Date: 2010-02-01 01:49 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thank you! I'm quite fond of this Draco! I'm delighted you enjoyed him.

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