Long Live the Mafia Prince - A Drarry Fanfiction

Part 005

For a moment, I feel like I'm floating in darkness, not a single sense triggered. It's just me, silence, and vast space.

Then the next moment, I notice myself breathing. The numb buzzing in my limbs fade away, the fog spread on my brain clears off, and the ripping dryness in my lungs soaks over.

I take a few more breaths. Wherever I am, the air is warm, presumably indoors, away from the chilling fall night. Making sense of the warmth in the room, there smells to be a burning fireplace.

Another breath in, the ringing in my ear morphs into a beautiful violin tune. The notes feel as if they are drifting through the air, light and fragile, like a dream. The more I wake up, though, the more I realize the song isn't one.

Following the slow waking of my senses, my memory, too, starts to remember. The letter, Vulpes street, fainting... Before I can call back more from before blacking out, a piercing pain drills into my skull.

I jump into reality.

The sudden movement adds dizziness to the headache. I feel nauseous and every bone feels weak. Fighting the pain, I squint around the room.

The room is large, enhanced by the high ceilings. With walls and floor made of stone, windows small, and dimly lit, the place feels almost cell-like, but the antique dark wood furniture says otherwise. Down to the candle lit chandelier, the room screams wealth. In the room, I am sitting on a giant four poster bed, so tall it makes the height of the room feel appropriate. The other half of the room, facing me, is an equally sized desk and chair with a grand fireplace behind it. No wonder it was so warm, even with the wind seeping through the windows. Most notable things are the interesting choice of wall decor. Swords, rifles, and every weapon one could think of, are scattered neatly on the walls. Between all the organized killing tools, though, something seems out of place.

It's a painting. A painting of a red rose, placed delicately on top of a dead eagle. It's 'La vie'?

Where am I?

The violin squeaks to a pause. "So you really weren't dead.".

I dart my gaze towards the voice.

A man stands in front of an gapped window, looking out into the scenery. He has a violin in one hand, bow in the other, seemingly having stopped playing his dreamy tune. With silver blonde hair the color of the moon and slender figure, he doesn't come off as a typically threatening presence. However, something about his firm stance and chillingly majestic aura, I feel overpowered.

I flinch as the man turns to me from the window. "I was beginning to think Theodore went a bit too hard.".

Putting down his violin on its stand, the man flashes a mysterious smile at me. I swallow, unable to say anything.

"Well, I sincerely apologize for using such vile ways to bring you here." The man says, heading towards a cabinet on the other side of the bed, "It would've been preferable to have you walk in on your own feet, but I couldn't think of a way to do that, unfortunately.".

I find myself unconsciously staring at the man as he walks around the room. I'm not even sure if I heard him probably. It's as if his voice is a hypnosis.

The man pulls out a small flask from the cabinet. "It'll help with the headache and to clear your mind. Seems like you need it.".

Staring at the flask tossed onto the bed, I pause.

"Go on." The man says, sitting at his desk, "It won't kill you.".

The moment I picked up the flask and the unknown liquid touched my lips, regret comes crashing.

Why should I trust this person, whoever he is? He kidnapped me, didn't he? Or was it Theodore, whoever they are? Where is this place even? Why does this man have 'La vie' on their wall? Did he steal it? Does that mean he's... the Mafia? Did the Mafia kidnap me? Why?

"Like I said, it'll clear your mind." The man says, "I can see the questions flying through your little brain. Your eyes say it all...".

My body tenses as the man gazes into my eyes with something between glee and a murderous impulse on his face. I strangle the urge to avoid his stare, as if he would run at me and rip my throat out when I look away. My body starts to shiver as the staring contest lengthens. Hours seem to pass.

"You don't believe me, why?" The man says, softly smiling at me as if he's trying to seduce me, "I'm not going to kill you, I promise. I don't want you to be scared of me.".

I feel like I'm going to faint again. Cold sweat drips down my spine.

"Please?" The man adds.

I grip my hands into a fist, wishing I could stop shaking. "Who are you?".

The smile drops from the man's face as he sighs. "You don't care about my feelings, do you?".

"Who are you?" I repeat.

The man groans, annoyed, as he gets up from his chair. Panic settles in as he walks over to me. The man sits at the foot of the bed. The bed is big enough for me to be out of his arm's reach, but that doesn't comfort me. My fingers digging into my palm, I hold my breath.

The man has a pouty look on his face, as if he's a child who got candy stolen from him, as if me fearing the person who possibly kidnapped me is a disappointment. At this point, I can't tell if I'm more scared or dumbfounded.

"The one thing I want from you is for you to not be scared of me." The man says, stubbornly so.

"Who are you!" I yell.

In a flash, the man jumps towards me.

I spring back. My arms are raised, protecting my face. Heart slamming on my ribcage, I can't even scream. The man's face is inches away from mine, expression frosted over.

What is this? What game is he playing? Why is he doing this to me?

Slowly, the man reaches for me, as if being 'careful' fixes anything. His reach ends at my hand. As he gently wraps his hand around mine, a wave of heat wells from my chest, clogging up my throat.

The man pulls my hand down to my lap, gripping it tight. His touch feels warm against my frozen limbs. The man whispers, his breath on my neck. "Would you not be scared of me if I told you who I am?".

A tear falls down my cheek. "Yes." I breathe.

The man breaks his iced expression and smiles faintly. "I'm Draco Malfoy."