Selkie - 3. Seduction

Selkie

Chapter 3: Seduction

Lucius allowed himself to be blindfolded by Father, whose hands were cold and rough. He waited in his blind state for the pull of Disapparation, struggling to keep still under the heavy robes he wore. Father had laid on the stripes well that night and Mother had not been there to apply the dittany, or give her wan comfort. She would never be there again. He felt Father's breath on his cheek as he said, "I do hope you remember tonight's lessons. The Dark Lord will expect quick and absolute compliance. He does not like to deal with overly emotional brats."

Father put his arm around Lucius, pulling him close, causing the soft cotton shirt to chaff his welted skin. Lucius fought the urge to wince as they Disapparated.

They landed in an area that smelled of rot, grass, and open air. A late spring wind caught at Lucius' cloak, lifting his robes, sending a chill up his heated back. He would be lucky if he did not have a fever by morning. Father roughly tore the blindfold from his eyes, propelling Lucius ahead of him with a push to the small of his back. Lucius bit back hiss of pain as Father chuckled. "I do hope I haven't hurt you, boy."

Lucius' steps flagged as he looked about. They were in a mouldering graveyard, the ground uneven with ancient graves that were half sunken in the ground. A light mist covered his feet, swirling about them as he followed his father up the path to an ancient manor house that had been destroyed by some long ago act of war. The theatricality of the location suited Lucius' sense of drama. He was to meet the Dark Lord for the second time in his life, it was fitting that the meeting be shrouded in the cosmic mystery of death and rebirth.

Father paused at the head of the path before a rusted iron gate, his face limned in impatience and ire. Lucius hurried his steps, not wanting to embarrass his father or merit anymore instruction this evening.

They passed through the gate and trod up an uneven path to the Norman edifice of the house. Lucius stooped through the door, narrowly missing the stone lintel that had fallen across it. His stripes burnt as he bent and as he straightened.

He did not know what to expect. When he had met the Dark Lord at the year's turn, he had been impressed with the man's fierce dedication to the cause of purebloods and the infringement of Muggle society on their most sacred traditions. He had heard darker things about Lord Voldemort, but dismissed most of them as propaganda. Father would never follow an extremist, and would certainly not open the Malfoy purse to a losing cause.

Lucius followed his father along a derelict hallway, the walls littered with graffiti and the flagstone floors littered with Muggle trash. When they came to two new oaken doors, Father stopped him with a hand to his chest. He licked his lips nervously, not quite meeting his son's gaze as he asked, "Once you pass this portal, your life will change. Are you prepared?"

Lucius' heart swelled with the importance of the occasion. He answered with a clear, strong voice, his heart fluttering with pride at the honour that was being bestowed upon him, "Yes, Father, I am ready."

Abraxas Malfoy looked on his son with something like approval as he raised his wand and incanted a spell, so softly that Lucius could not hear the spoken words. The doors swung open and Lucius followed him into the darkened room.

His eyes adjusted to the gloom of the interior, and he waited in expectant awe as a small flicker of light sparked at the centre of the room. He felt hands at his shoulders pulling his cloak from his back, and other hands at his clothing; loosening his tie and his waistcoat, pulling them off of him with harsh tugs. Lucius bit down on his panic and arousal as he was stripped bare. He felt a soft hand guide him forward into a cone of light that had appeared; beyond that light the room was dead. He was pushed forward, and the masked figures retreated after forcing him to kneel. Lucius kept his face down, knowing that to raise it would be folly. Years under Father's strict tutelage had taught him that, if nothing else. He heard the shuffling of feet, and then the doors closing. An unsettled silence filled the room as his jailers left.

He did not know how long he waited in that light, head down, shoulders straight, knees aching from the contact with the rough stone. He held himself still, not giving into the intensifying burn in his back, or the watery feel of his gut.

Still, silent, poised as if for flight, Lucius waited, until his alabaster skin and pale gold hair prickled with awareness. Another had entered the room. He kept his head down, but wanted to flee, to raise his eyes, to feast on the horror or beauty that he knew awaited him. The soft swish of velvet against leather and silk against skin alerted him to the close proximity of the figure. A high, cool voice, which seemed to be disembodied from the figure that emitted it, said, "Rise, Lucius, son of Abraxas, and look upon the man who would claim your fealty."

Lucius raised his eyes to the red-brown ones, the colour of dried blood, and immediately was engulfed in a feeling of raw power, unlike any he had experienced before. Lord Voldemort extended his pale, slender hand and Lucius took it, unabashed at his own state of arousal. His cock bobbed ahead of him as Lord Voldemort brought him through the darkness into a luxuriously appointed chamber.

"Sit here." Lord Voldemort bade him to take a seat on a small ottoman in the centre of the room, his heavy-crested ring flashing in the soft light cast by the myriad candles which dotted the room. Lucius did as he was told, wanting to take his aching cock in his fist, wanting to bury it in anything soft.

Lord Voldemort circled him, pausing behind Lucius. "He beats you, your father?"

Lucius remained silent until Voldemort touched his stripes, his cool fingers creating both agony and exhilaration. Lucius felt the pressure build in his testicles, tightening deliciously as his liege probed his flesh. "Look at me, young Malfoy."

Lucius complied, twisting as he did, and lifting his gaze to Voldemort's eyes. He felt the ripping sensation of Legilimancy as Voldemort tore through Lucius' shields. Years of humiliation and pain doled from his fathers flowed from Lucius' mind into Lord Voldemort's; the still fresh agony of the telling of his mother's death just this afternoon slid from Lucius' mind, oily and wet like an unborn thing; Narcissa's strained smile as Lucius observed Father touching her, fondling her breast as he pinned her against the wall of the library, heedless of Lucius and Mother's presence; the slights and sneers of Dumbledore; Lucius' fascination for the ugly little boy...

Lucius heaved against the pressure of the invasion-- the boy was his! -- and then Lord Voldmort's pressure increased, became painful. Lucius could hear his own ragged sobs as the other man returned to the images of Abraxas Malfoy and his coldness, his anger, his disdain, his lack of filial warmth. He heard himself plead, beg to be turned loose, and then he felt a rush of satisfaction, alien and cold, returned to him.

Voldemort broke the contact, a secretive smile passing over his lips, not meeting his sanguine eyes. "What is it you crave most? Pleasure beyond telling? Revenge? No, these are too paltry for such a powerful wizard. Yesss, I think I know..."

Lord Voldemort lifted Lucius' chin with a cold finger, the feel of it mildly distasteful against Lucius' heated skin. Unbidden, a vision of an older Lucius, commanding, sleek, presiding over the Wizengammot, deciding the fate of others, rose to the fore. Lucius felt the power of the vision, recognised the seduction the fulfilment of it offered.

Voldemort hissed softly, a sound of assent before he placed his wand against Lucius' arm. "I offer you my Mark of protection against all who would thwart you, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy. If you take it, do you promise to serve me faithfully for as long as you live?"

Lucius found his voice as his mind warned him away from the situation. He wanted both to run screaming of danger into the night, and to grovel at the feet of the man before him He answered, his voice alien and creaking to his own ears, "I do."

Voldemort continued, "I offer you my Mark to grant you freedom from all forces that would bind you. If you take it, do promise to bind yourself to me, heart, body and soul?"

Lucius' voice was stronger as he replied, "I do."

His Lord asked his final question as gathered magic swirled around them, "I offer you my Mark to give you all the power you desire. If you take this Mark, will you use that power to further the aims of the Brotherhood to which you bind yourself?"

Lucius exhaled the words of binding as magic rose around him, pressing tickling tendrils against his skin, caressing him in the hidden places of his body, "I do."

Lord Voldemort incanted the old words of power, unfamiliar to Lucius, yet part of his heritage, as a dark stain spread across his arm like a plague against the white skin. It coalesced, drawing on Lucius' own unspent magic, as it formed a skull with a snaking tongue. As his Lord pronounced the final words, Lucius fell to the ground, an agonising pleasure overtaking him. He spilled himself on the rich carpet, felt the sticky emissions spurt as he screamed, the pain and the pleasure unbearable.

Once done, Lord Voldemort stooped beside him, pressing cool, gentle hands against his sweating brow as he cast cleansing charms on Lucius' body. "You and I, we have much in common, Lucius. Our father's have both proven to be problematic."

He kissed Lucius' brow, the feel of his lips dry and slithering against the younger man's flesh, and then drew a coverlet over his prone form. "Sleep, and then we celebrate your induction into our midst."

Lucius was distantly aware of the candles flickering as Lord Voldemort's booted feet traversed the room. He heard the click of the latch, and then the door closed with a nearly inaudible snick. Lucius slept.

&*&*&

Hogsmeade weekends had always been Lucius' favorite time when he was at school. The freedom from observation and the sheer joy of being outside the confines of the school he regarded as his prison had been heady. He had returned to Hogsmeade, this fifth year away from the school, under orders to issue a veiled invitation to Severus Snape to meet with the Dark Lord. He was to ostensibly ask Snape to join him for the Yule festivities at Malfoy Manor. The dark boy had not escaped the Dark Lord's notice, not since Lucius had introduced him into the Dark Lord's consciousness on the night of his Marking.

Things had gone according to plan for Lucius. He was to marry next year, after Narcissa completed her education on the continent. She was studying Charms, a proper woman's pursuit, and gathering support for Lucius' cause amidst the future power brokers in Europe. Lucius ran his hand over his left forearm, a vague feeling of unease passing over his flesh. Service to the Dark Lord was becoming dangerous, the duties more onerous, and it seemed that war loomed over every aspect of his life. He had hoped to keep Severus out of the fray, but the more he resisted, the more the Dark Lord pressed to meet the boy that so fascinated one of his brightest young lieutenants.

Lucius secured a private room in the dingy recesses of the Hog's Head, the barman sniffing at the money offered, but taking it nonetheless. Lucius met the old man's blue eyes and deftly flicked the key to the room from the man's upraised palm. "I am expecting an addition to my party, a young man named Snape. Please direct him to me."

He pulled out his purse with a clinking shake and put another coin in the man's upraised hand, feeling mild distaste at the necessity for commerce in conjunction with Severus. The man nodded sharply once, and turned back to his other patrons. Lucius strode down the aisle to the private rooms, not letting his robes touch anything in the establishment, lest they be soiled. He wanted everything to be perfect for Severus.

He had long ago given in to the idea that the boy fascinated him. It had only been recently that he realised the fascination had turned to a longing to be with the boy in more intimate ways. The fact did not shame Lucius. He was a passionate man, and since his betrothed was away, it would hurt no one to indulge in the fantasies that haunted him. Images seemed to creep up on him when he was least ready for them. Father had made mention of Lucius' inattention during dinner just last evening. Lucius had stared coldly at the old man. "I have my duties on my mind, Father. Perhaps if you were more attentive, the Dark Lord would favour you also."

Abraxas Malfoy had dropped his gaze. True to his word, The Dark Lord had taken care of Lucius' father. The Malfoy scion had not been beaten since that night four years ago. That fact alone had diminished Lucius' need for approval, at least from his father. Lucius instead, fought for the approval of the Dark Lord, vying for position amongst the hungry sons of pureblood society that nudged and jostled at their Lord's feet.

If only it did not mean he would have to deliver Severus to him. The weedy boy had grown into a delicate youth. He still sneered and slouched his way through life, but his mind was beautiful, poetic, a work of art. The stolen moments he had been able to spend with the boy had impressed Lucius, made him want Snape more. He shivered, imagining the boy's black eyes focused solely and passionately on him, rather than some dusty tome or nasty potion. Lucius would show the boy true alchemy if he would allow him.

Lucius jostled the key in the lock, saying a common spell to get the tumbler to click and then slide over. The door opened on a dingy room with a sad, sagging bed in the centre, an oval table to the side, and two chairs beside it that had once been fine leather but were now covered with a thin sheen of oil over ragged hide. Lucius cast several cleansing spells on the surfaces he and Severus would occupy, not neglecting the bed's sheets. Bed bugs were just as much a problem in the wizarding world as they were in the Muggle one. Not that Lucius thought he could entice the ascetic Severus under the covers. Once done, he arranged himself in an affected pose, striking his legs forward, his hands laxly clasping the arms of the chair.

A sharp rap sounded on the door and Lucius said, "Enter."

Severus entered the room, his inky presence clouding Lucius' vision as he scowled about the room. "You summoned me?"

"Is that any way for an old friend to speak to someone he has not seen in a dog's age?" Lucius chuckled mirthlessly, covering the sharp stab of desire and pain that Severus' presence always brought to the fore. He damned himself for needing the boy's approbation after the Dark Lord had burned the need for Abraxas' approval from him.

Severus smirked, his lips curling down at the corners unpleasantly. He slouched into the room, primly taking a seat at the table opposite Lucius. "I had no idea we were so well acquainted, Malfoy. We hardly ever speak, other than our brief conversations when you have no one else to occupy your time."

Lucius twirled his wand between his fingers idly. "You are correct, I have been remiss in my pursuit of your company. I do have my duties to consider, what with the Board of Governors occupying much of Father's time when we are here. I serve as his secretary, you realise. I regret that my duties take away from my friends, Severus"

Lucius let silence supply the sentiment he felt. Lucius always spoke with silence when softer emotions were at play. It was safer that way for all involved.

"What is it you want?" Severus asked with some impatience. "You pulled me away from an important Potions experiment."

Severus remained ramrod straight, knees together almost primly. Lucius pulled a flask out of his robes and then transfigured tumblers out of two quartz pebbles he carried for just such a purpose. He busied himself with the pouring and the handling of the liquor, biding his time until Severus relaxed. He pushed the half-filled tumbler across the table to the younger boy, who glared at it without reaching for it. Lucius brought his drink to his lips and sipped, enjoying the smooth warmth of the liquid as it traversed his palette, gullet and gut. He half-closed his eyes, as if contemplating the aroma. From behind his lids, he watched Snape, hungrily taking in the sharp and delicate planes of his face. "Drink with me to deeper friendships, Severus."

Severus reached for the glass and winced, grabbing his side as he took the glass. "I'm not one for strong drink, Lucius. You should know that, if you know anything about me."

"You're hurt." A flicker of hot rage stirred in Lucius' heart. "Are those four Gryffindor cowards still attacking you?"

Severus avoided Lucius' eyes and sipped the firewhisky. He covered a gasp with a mild moue of disgust. "When do they ever leave me alone? You know what I am at that school."

Lucius stirred from his languorous pose. He stooped before Severus, pulling at the boy's clothing as he did. Severus froze, a look of shock settling on his features before his normal, cool mask slipped into place and he slapped at Lucius' hands.

Lucius persisted, saying, "Let me see what they have done to you. I will..."

"You will what, Lucius?" Severus asked trying to rise and only tangling his feet in the chair legs before he stumbled past Lucius. "Don't offer me protection that you will not follow through with. I can't bear to..."

Lucius stalked after him, trapping him against the wall as he used his wand to open the layers of fabric in which the boy swathed himself. His mouth went dry as he saw the thin chest, the beating of Snape's heart evident in the pulse at his throat. Severus crossed his thin arms over his chest, exposing the bruised flesh of his side to Lucius' view. Lucius' eyes moved to the ugly site, but what caused rage to burst fully into his consciousness were the other scars and faint bruises that had obviously not been inflicted during the school year.

"Who did this?" Lucius raged. "Who dares to lay their hands on you in such a brutal fashion? Is it that Muggle your mother soiled herself with?"

Severus pushed against Lucius' chest, his fingers digging painfully into the older man's flesh. "Gerrof me. Why do you care? Didn't I see the same type marks on you in school? You know why I have them."

Lucius swept his eyes to the boy's. Severus still clutched at Lucius's shoulders, his eyes angry and imploring, his mouth a thin, ugly line. If Lucius just leaned in a little, he could capture those lips, make them soften under his. He breathed in as he studied Severus' features, the scent of fire, potions and musk filling his lungs, the sight of the fluttering pulse point at the base of Severus thin neck, fragile and endearing. Lucius leaned and Severus remained still as the moment spun out, an eternity of promise. He captured the boy's lips, softly at first. Severus tasted and felt different than a woman. There was no artifice in his essence, no perfumes to mask unpleasant odours, no cosmetics to cover less than perfect features. Lucius kissed Severus, lingering over the slight beard that even now tried to sprout on his young face. The older man suppressed a moan as Severus stepped into the circle of Lucius' arms, clutched at him with scrabbling, stained fingers. Severus seemed as hungry for human contact as Lucius was.

Lucius drank deeply of the boy, sliding his tongue against Snape's hard lips until they slackened, became pliant. Lucius' tongue darted to the recesses of the boy's mouth shyly and was heartened to feel the boy respond in kind. The kiss spun out, dragging Lucius' senses to a dark place, one that spoke of his loneliness and need. His hand strayed to the boy's back, pulling him closer, letting the boy feel what his untutored passion did to Lucius. A crash outside the door broke the spell.

Severus gave a violent push to Lucius' midriff. "What... what.. No one..."

"I want you." Lucius answered, his heart throbbing in time to the beat further down on his anatomy.

"No one wants me, Lucius." The mask settled over Severus' face as he drew his clothing over his nudity. "The Dark Lord sent you, didn't he?"

"No... Yes, but I... want you." Lucius stuttered, his voice raw with the longing he felt for the beautifully ugly boy. "I have since forever."

Snape shook his lank hair into his face as he buttoned the last closure on his robe. "That was a cheap and tawdry thing to do, Lucius. I don't appreciate you toying with me. If you wanted me to come to the Manor, all you had to do was ask."

Lucius could not answer. He was mute with need. Severus looked up, his black eyes ancient. "I'll give you an answer next Hogsmeade weekend about joining your Yule party. If you are sincere about your desires, you will be here in this room to accept my answer."

Severus swept from the room, his school robes billowing about him. Lucius sank to the floor, his knees suddenly weak. He would be there, whatever Severus thought. Lucius would always be there for the ugly boy who had crept into his heart like a dark omen.