A/N: this story is not in chronological order, which can make it rather confusing at times. due to my reader's persistence, and quite frankly, my own confusion, i've now inserted dates in front of each section so that the section can be put in a clearer time order. it helped me out, i certainly hope it helps you.

before the dates existed, i had been posting a chronology chart. i will leave it in tact.

also, a large thank you to plug in delaney because she beta'd everything up to chapter ten for me because she is a goddess and my new bestest friend :D thank you!

-- chapter 1 --

- November - 1996 - Sixth Year-

The dark seemed to have engulfed me as I walked further toward the tapestry of the red horse. The quiet is too much, makes me nervous. I constantly heard the swish of a tail; saw the flash of yellow eyes around the corner. Was she there, in the wings, waiting for me to make the sound that will be enough for her to alert Filch? But there was nothing, only my imagination getting the best of my guilty conscious. A few more feet and I was behind the tapestry, in the room, waiting. He was always late, no matter what time of day or night it was. It was almost as though he liked to make me anxious for him, nervous that he will abandon me. Because he has before, just to let me know that he was in charge, he controlled everything, and I could never be certain of anything that he did. He enjoyed the power trip that my uncertainty gave him.

I sat in a chair next to the fire a house elf had prepared upon his request, as always. Being a member of S.P.E.W, I was nervous to ask the house elves for anything for fear that Hermione would find out and hurt me; but he grew up in a home that abused the privilege of having several of them, and so he felt no scruples about demanding their service and then threatening them with violence if they gave our tryst away. There was a bowl of fresh strawberries and grapes on the table next to my chair, picked fresh from the patch he kept in the greenhouses. I took a few grapes to nibble, my eyes trained on the stairs leading into the room and my ears perked for the slightest noise.

As the minutes passed, my mind began to wander to thoughts of the day. Harry had been in a peculiar mood, quieter than usual. He would not tell me what was wrong, but I knew there was something and so did Hermione. He didn't even retort when Malfoy made a rude remark about his scar. Hermione thought it had something to do with the letter Lupin had sent him the week before, but I thought it less likely to only be about that. Harry knew better than to dwell on events that he couldn't control.

There was a noise, a swoosh of clothe, and there he was, brushing blonde silk from his eyes with an irritated scowl as he descended into the room. His eyes rested on me and the scowl shifted slightly to more of a smirk. "You're late," I told him, popping the last grape into my mouth.

His eyes narrowed as he drew closer to my chair, "You're lucky I came at all after the way you acted during history. Who told you to eat before I arrived?" He circled to the back of my chair and I could sense his gaze scrutinizing me. He leant over my chair, his lips mere centimeters from my ear, "You know they're only to be touched if you're good."

"Didn't think you were coming. Was just about to go back to bed, actually."

His fingers entangled in my hair, and with a rough tug, my head was pulled back so that my eyes met his. "Do not lie to me," he hissed, his face contorted into a snarl. The words of response tangled in my throat, choking my breath as I stared into his storming eyes. He studied me for a moment before releasing my scalp and walking around to stand in front of me. I watched him, fighting the urge to reach out to him, knowing it was best to allow him the first touch. "I want to go to bed early tonight, so let's get this over with. Take those filthy robes off." He turned to the table and picked a strawberry from the bowl to taste as I began to undress.

Once bare and standing in front of him, his attention turned back to me. He circled me, surveying my body. I resisted a shiver as a single fingernail trailed the line of a red scratch running down my abdomen. "Who did this? Were you with someone else?" His eyes flashed anger again and fear passed through me as his face came close enough to mine for our noses to touch.

I shook my head. "No, of course not. You know you're the only one."

"Then how did that mark get there?" He was challenging me, enjoyed the fear he instilled with such brutality.

"I ran into the door handle on the shower this morning," I spoke, nearly a whisper.

He glanced at it again, not moving his head, his finger still resting just below the mark. "You're such a bloody git, you know that? What kind of imbecile runs into a door handle? Honestly." I didn't respond, knew he wasn't looking for an answer. I closed my eyes as his fingernails raked up my side, leaving thin lines of blood behind. I allowed the shiver to go through me as his lips brushed my jaw, his teeth scratching slowly, and his hands fell to my sides, pulling me to him. I moved slightly to catch his lips; my fingers fumbling to push passed his robes as his tongue violated my mouth. I felt the push back into the chair as his robes fell and his full weight pressed down on me. I could feel the need to have him possess me, could feel it down to the slicing pain of his teeth gnawing at my bottom lip enough to draw blood. My hands roamed his body, my fingers slipping through his soft hair, as he lapped up the blood he had released. His hand slid down my waist to the length that had been waiting all day for his touch, and he pulled on it, yanked harder than my body liked and I yelped into his mouth. I was punished with another hard tug and a groan infiltrated our interlocked mouths as he leaned further into me, beginning to pull with a gentler hand.

Suddenly, he removed himself from me, leaving me cold as he stood to face me with a sneer. I looked up at him with confusion before he captured a handful of my hair and pulled me onto my knees in front of him, my eyes in line with his erection. I looked up into his eyes before taking a hold on him and running my tongue up the underside. He moaned and I watched as his eyes shut to the feel of it. His hand was still fisted around my hair and he guided my mouth around him and directed my head in sucking him. I closed my eyes and fell into the familiar feeling of pleasuring him, letting my tongue and lips do the work as my mind watched his enthrallment.

I could feel that he was close, this shudder always went through him just before, and he pulled my head away with a hard tug that pulled out more than a few strands. I clenched my eyes shut and surrendered to the pain as he forcefully shoved me onto the rough carpet and made me to turn my back to him. His fingers caressed the thin lines along my back that he had created a few nights previous as he knelt down behind me. I sighed and leaned up on my elbows, enjoying the rarity of a soft touch. The euphoria was short-lived, however, when he entered me without warning, and with full force. I cried out as my head dropped to the carpet in surprise. I had no preparation for such a siege and the saliva left on him was not enough to ease his entry. A hand gripped at my hip, fingernails digging into my skin, as he began to thrust violently. His body was hunched over me, his lips pressed to the hollow of my neck and shoulder before his teeth clenched around the sensitive skin and an onslaught of pain rushed into my shoulder. I groaned and leaned back into him, urging him to go deeper as my mouth shot open in uncontrollable pleasure. He obliged me and pushed deeper and harder, shoving my face into the carpet with every thrust. I moaned and let out a string of incoherent curses as I fought futilely to lift myself back onto my elbows. His hand pressed against my neck, pressing me down as I struggled against his strength. I could hear his voice somewhere in the distance, strings of words, unintelligible, but undoubtedly things that would make even Snape blush.

And all this time we were building in unison towards that final edge, that final plummet into unimaginable bliss. His thrusts grew rawer, more urgent, and I pushed back into him with the same urgency. And all of the sudden we fell over into the abyss and I could feel our moans echo through the room as his seed spilled into me and mine fell onto the carpet. He thrust a few final times before collapsing on top of me with his chin on my shoulder. He left light kisses all along my neck and shoulder blade before resting his cheek against my shoulder and taking a few breaths. I hadn't moved, my mind entirely void of anything but those lips brushing my skin.

There was a soft sigh and he was out of me as suddenly as he had been in. I shivered a bit as I sat up. He was grabbing another strawberry to nibble on as he sat in the chair opposite the one I had been in earlier. I watched him with quiet contemplation as he meticulously nipped bits off the berry, careful not to sodden his hands or lips with the red juice. "I thought you wanted to go to bed early tonight."

His glance flickered at me in sublime disinterest before settling back at his task. "I changed my mind." His voice was without its previous malice. He was always gentler afterwards. I crawled a bit closer to sit next to the chair and leaned my head on his knee. The fingers of his unoccupied hand ran through my hair languidly, massaging my scalp ever so softly. I let out a soft sigh and relaxed, the cool skin of his knee soothing my rug-roughened cheek. "Is there anyone in your family without red hair? Maybe a cousin, or a distant aunt, or something?"

I closed my eyes at his words, knowing they held none of the usual insult, at least they were not intended to. "My cousin, Serina, has strawberry blonde hair, but I think that's as non-redhead as we get. Is there anyone in your family that isn't blonde?" I looked up at him and he smiled a little before tugging my chin up to examine my burned cheek.

"You'll have to fix that or Potter and the Mudblood will have a million questions that I don't want answered." He ran a thumb over it gently before letting my face go.

"Don't call Hermione a Mudblood; she's a better witch than most purebloods I've seen. What does it matter that she's muggle-born?"

"There's quite a bit of difference, but seeing as I'm not interested in fighting with you at the moment, I'll have to explain later. Hand me another strawberry." I did as I was told and he leaned further into the chair as he began to nibble again. He indicated for me to join him in the chair and I obliged him, straddling his hips. He had bitten the tip of the strawberry and rubbed it across my lips as a sort of juicy lip-balm. He leaned into me and licked the juice away before enveloping my lips in his. His tongue moved languidly over mine, pulling a slight moan from somewhere in my throat. He smiled against my lips, pulling me closer to his body. He had become lethargic in the wake of his orgasm, the violence seeping from him like blood from a slice in the skin. That was what made all the rest worth it; the tenderness, the emotion that moved through him like a slow ocean current. We played a slow dance of tongues and lips and teeth and his fingers grazed the scratches on my back. I moved over him, feeling his every muscle contract and release as the kiss grew less languid and more heated.

When he abruptly pushed me away from him, out of the chair, there was a flicker of a pout as I sat sprawled on the floor, feeling discarded. He stood and stepped around me to pick up his robes, brushing a few of the wrinkles out before sliding it on and securing the clasps. I sat and watched him, unable to speak and knowing he wouldn't want me to. The vulgarity and violence had returned sometime during that kiss, I could see it flash in his eyes as he scowled at me. "Get up and get dressed, you look ridiculous." He spat, adjusting his hair in a small mirror on the opposing wall. I stood slowly and began to redress, watching him the entire time. He glanced at me in the mirror and turned with a roll of his eyes, "What are you looking at?" I didn't respond as I turned my eyes to the work my hands were performing. I heard the rustle of his robes as he turned toward the door. There was a pause, but I didn't look up. "I need not remind you that no one is to know of this, correct?"

I nodded, but remained silent, wishing for him to just leave me before I started to hate him again. But he didn't leave, because I could hear him breathing and when I looked up he was right in front of me, staring at me as though I had just insulted his mother. "What?" He didn't say anything and his eyes never even indicated that a question had been asked. And then his lips were on mine again and I was being shoved against the wall, his body pressing into mine with such urgency. I returned the kiss, wrapped my arms around him to pull him even closer. He pulled his lips away, but didn't move away from me, continuing to stare into me.

"You're mine; you know that, don't you?"

I didn't know how to respond, the question had been so obscure. "I… yeah… Yeah, I know."

"Good because I don't want you to go back up there with Potter and forget who you share a bed with."

"Who? Myself? I've never shared a bed with you." It just slipped; I was still too confused by his sudden question. His hand wrapped around the slight bulge in my pants that his kiss had created and squeezed. Hard. I yelped and tried to pull away, but he was stronger. "You know what I mean. You are with me and no one else. I don't want you soiled with Potter sweat, or Finnigan, Thomas, or Longbottom for that matter. Do you understand?" He emphasized the last question with a harder squeeze that left me breathless and searing with pain.

"I understand. Why do you think I'm going to sleep with Harry, or any of them? You know I only want you."

He let go of me and stepped away, a sneer planted on those thin lips, "You're wearing his pants."

I looked down at myself and noticed that he was right. I had put on Harry's pants instead of my own in my haste to get to the tapestry. I shrugged, but then thought about it, "How do you know these are Harry's?"

A flicker of distaste and he turned for the stairway, his answer trailing over his shoulder as he left, "They're too new to be yours."

I stood against the wall for a moment, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart. I closed my eyes for a moment, calmed, and then walked out after him into the silent hallways and back to Gryffindor.