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Mirror Image	By : Malfoypatriarch Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2970 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Mirror Image
- 2-Chapter Two
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Mirror Image

He
fell in love when he was five years old. He knew that the love couldn't last. He
was still young. He would get older and find new loves. Marry someone else. See
someone else. But he did not think of that at the time. He did not care for the
future at that point. In his mind, he did not see a dark-haired boy with an
overly large shaped nose who messed about with potions. He did not see a blonde
girl with eyes of a tigress.

He saw himself reflected in glass, staring into eyes of metal as a pale hand
ran down over his body. He was naked, having no shame or insecurities, the
youth rarely possess those traits. Besides, he was alone and in being alone, he
knew he could indulge himself in his favourite pastime. He admired the one he
loved more than anything.

His skin was soft to the touch. Warm and heated as he had just stepped out of
the shower. He was so careful not to stand too close to the mirror, knowing
that if his breath hit upon the fine surface, his reflection would become
distorted and he did not want that. He watched his movements in the glass,
touching first along his arms, slender fingers tracing delicate veins of blue.

Was his blood blue as well for the royalty he had been borne unto? Or was it
red, a blinding red that was as pure as silk and twice as thick between the
fingers. He could not tell from just feeling the veins. His hands then started
their trek upwards, exploring his hair, long and shiny, cascading onto his
shoulders and a pale white. He looked older than what he was, he sometimes
thought, because of his hair. It was the hair of an eighty year old, not
someone who was just beginning life.

Yet, it was his pride and joy and he remembered to brush it regularly and
sometimes, he allowed his mother to brush it for him. His hands moved onto to
feel the smooth skin of his face, tracing each of his features from his slightly
pursed lips, to the smooth contour of his nose, to the condescending slant in
his eyes. He had seen his father wear this look before when speaking to others
and copied it feature by feature.

He was so proud of his face, a perfect representation of his parents'. He was a
mixture of the Pure Malfoy blood and the Pureblood his father carried within
him. He did not know of his father's first last name since he had never
bothered to ask. Malfoy was enough for him. His looks could get him out of any
situation. A pout of the lips, the worrisome crease between
his eyes, the bottom lip tucked between his teeth. He had mastered the
mannerisms of innocence before he had even known that he had lost his own.

His trail had not ended just yet. His hands left his perfectly sculpted face to
move down his neck, feeling his throat and then moved onto his chest. He had no
muscles to speak of but nor did he still have the youthful fat that normally
went with a person into early childhood. Malfoys were quick to drop that, he had
been told after seeing a small chubby baby born to a different family. His
mother had been full of information about her son and he had listened
attentively.

He wanted to know his lover inside and out. He wanted to explore him, feel him,
hold him, and love him. But he had to be careful. He had seen one of his
friends, Goyle perhaps, accidentally love a kitten too much. They had buried
the animal before their parents could find out.

It was there that Lucius had found his awakening of his own true love. Goyle
had cried upon him, acting like a baby rather than a child, and Lucius,
stone-faced had held him. Goyle hugged him around the waist and, at first,
Lucius was scared. He didn't want to be squeezed to death like the kitten. But
then Goyle's hand moved just a bit and he found himself taking Goyle around the
house and threatening the boy that he would tell his parents what had happened
to the kitten if Goyle didn't touch him 'right there.'

Goyle had complied and had touched him and nothing happened. Lucius had
expected something to occur. He was not sure what, but he had felt a tingle
back when Goyle's arm had brushed against him accidentally. He had let Goyle go
with much contemplation.

Nevertheless, he did not allow his hand to dip down lower than his abdomen. He
would not touch himself there. Not yet. That had to be reserved for someone
special. Someone who was not his lover, and he felt so
sorry for thais ris reflection gazed back at him, and Lucius was shocked to see
the eyes in that reflection mist over with unshed tears.

Moving to the mirror, he stretched his palms against the flat surface and
whispered, "I'm sorry." And he was sorry. So very
sorry that he could not share that moment with his lover, his one true friend.
As some form of consolation, he rubbed his lower body against the glasenjoenjoying the cooling sensation that derived from doing so. The surface was
slippery and if he concentrated hard enough, he could feel his own hands, his reflection's hands grasp him and start to touch
him like Goyle had. Only there was a reaction this time.

Lucius jerked back and looked at his hands. They were still in front of him,
not touching his body, just staying right where he had left them. Upon the mirror. The reflection looked back at him,
mirroring his confused look.

His body trembled at the wave of relief as it cascaded through him. He had not
touched himself, no matter how his lover tempted him. He could not blame his
lover, of course. He too wished he could feel such joy in his arms.

A door slammed from downstairs, indicating the one special person that Lucius
would give himself up to. In silence, he moved to the
bathroom counter and quickly brushed his hair.

He was within his parents' bathroom without their permission. Normally his
mother would not mind but his father had a temper. And that temper was exactly
what Lucius wished to provoke. There were few things that Lucius wanted in life
at that point. He wanted to be with his lover, of course. More
times than he was left alone with him. He wanted to give his lover his
power. But first, he had to acquire some power to give.

He had handled the first step with remarkable speed and luck. His mother, ever
on the lookout for vengeful spirits, took care to cover all mirrors with heavy
blankets whenever the family went to sleep. The Elves were very diligent about
this and obeyed her. Only once had a mirror been left uncovered at night. As
soon as his mother had seen it, she had an Elf smash it into pieces, certain
that a spirit had gotten lost and was now trapped inside. Lucius knew that he
would have to be careful if he was to see his lover at night.

He had enough chances to see his lover in the day, but it was more romantic at
night. This is what the books said, this was what lovers did, this was what
felt right. Quietly, wearing only a cloak, he had left his room in the middle
of the night and had gone into his bathroom. There, he took the cover off the
mirror and gazed into the silver eyes of his longtime partner. Nuzzling close
to the reflection, he unclasped the cloak and let it fall to the ground, baring
himself to the boy inside the mirror. His lover did the same.

A red tongue reached out and tasted glass but he could feel his lover tasting
him instead. Fingertips danced upon fingertips and he laughed and spoke to his
lover just as his lover laughed and spoke to him. Sometimes, when the pain hurt
too badly, he would cry in front of his lover and his lover would understand
his pain and cry as well. Lucius never felt left out. His lover would not leave
him. His lover understood him. After that first night came hundreds of nights
spent in the same way. He did not grow tired of the pale, perfect reflection
gazing back out at him.

He knew the ways of the romantics and he set about now, intending on granting
his lover what he would like the most. Power and control.
He would give these things to his lover and his lover would smile at him and
tell him that he was good and that there was no better lover than him in the
world. From the depths of his min pla plan had formed. It took wing and he held
it inside him as a deep, dark secret, treasuring it as much as he treasured his
lover.

The plan would give him his freedom to be with his lover. The plan would give
him the gift to bestow upon his lover. The plan, the plan, he had only the plan
with him. He needed only the plan. And through the plan, it became a joke. A
twisted joke that only he knew the punchline to and he could laugh at his
parents' ignorance. They knew nothing of the plan and the joke and he would
keep it that way. But a plan shouldn't be laughable and he could no longer call
it a joke as it grew from an idea to a series of ideas.

He was going to accomplish much. But he had to get from where he was now to
where he would end up and he would have to follow the guidelines of the plan.
He would have to be prepared for the consequences of his actions and he might
even fail. It was a scary thought, failure. So no, this was no longer a joke.

This was a game. And it was his private game that he played with his family and
only he knew he was playing it. The others had no choice but to go along with
it and no amount of inquiring questions was enough to get him to say what was
going on inside his mind. All would be clear to him and this was his private game
and his alone.

And now, it was all coming together. He stifled a nervous chuckle as he heard
his father open the door to the bedroom. This was no time to be nervous. He
stood still, in front of the mirror, side by side with his lover who gave him
strength as his father opened the door and glared down at him.

"You know you're not allowed to be in this room, boy!"

Lucius looked down, feigning shame. "I know, father." His voice was
small and diminutive, perfect for a boy his age.

His father moved over to him in only two strides and shook him by the shoulder.
"Why are you in here then? Do you like to disobey me?"

"No, father." And now, here it was. His time to shine. "I only wish to please you."
With that, his small hand cupped his father's genitalia and squeezed just so.

He was rewarded with a fierce backhand across the face. Lucius had the decency
to look at his father, shock playing off his features.

"How dare you!" The older man was nearly purple with rage.

Lucius slowly moved back to him. "Please, father. Let me please you."

"Goddamn fag!"

But his father did not protest anymore once his flaccid cock was placed in his
son's mouth. While Lucius could not take in that much, he did know the right
places to touch. It was the same as his own, only in a
larger size and girth. His tongue licked at his father as his mouth opened as
wide as it could go, taking the man into him.

Lucius held himself back from wincing at the taste. He had been hoping for
something a bit more bearable, not salty with sweat, but clean. He had, after
all, just taken a shower. There was no reason why his father could not be clean
for him. But then, his purpose was soon served as he felt his father grow
harder within his mouth.

Removing the arousal from him, he started licking the other man along each and
every vein, his movements done just to tease, not to bring off.

It paid off in the end as his father reached down and grabbed him by the hair. "Bedroom. Now." And then
the older man made his son walk in front of him, ing ing the small blond
whatever name appealed to him. "Whore," seemed to be his favourite.
Lucius tolerated it with a knowing smirk that his father couldn't see. He knew
what was coming would hurt, but it would be worth it. A quick glance at the
clock told him that everything was going smoothly. Neither
too fast nor too slow.

His hands touched the bed and then his legs as he crawled onto the soft
mattress and covers that rested upis pis parents' bed. He knew exactly how he
looked just then, moving gracefully onto the piece of furniture. Tempting and irresistible. He had seen his mother do this
with his father several times before at night. He knew what his father liked.
The older man wanted submission.

He would give his father just that if he so desired. It would only be a
one-time ordeal, he assured himself. That was all this was meant for. He kept
his eyes open and staring at the wall in front of him as he felt his father's
hand slide around his waist. He could feel the indecision come off the other
man and this annoyed him. He had not taken on the role of the woman and licked
his father's cock to be denied the end results of his game. His arse moved to
his father's touch, as though begging to be petted and invaded.

The indecision left and in its place, there was a sense of foreboding. Lucius
was certain his father could not feel it in the air, but Lucius could. He was
the true Malfoy. His father was only a Pureblood and Lucius knew that it took
more than purity to be able to hear the whisperings of the Manor. He had asked
a favour from the house before and that was to whisper in his ear just when his
mother returned home.

It told him so now and he let out a soft moan that his father mistook for one
of pleasure. The scent of lubricant filled the air and slowly, Lu fel felt
himself being ripped apart. He had expected the pain to be intense, but had
never thought it could feel like this. He was too young - too inexperienced,
too naive, too innocent, too small, won't fit, won't FIT - to have something so large as his father's aching arousal being driven inside
of him. The sudden pressure on his arse that indicated his father was as deep
as he was ever going to get was enough to make him cry out in pain.

"If you don't like it, you shouldn't have tempted me, brat. For your own good!" His father's speech seemed breathy,
huskier than Lucius had ever heard but he had not the time to concentrate on
that as his father moved inside of him. The thrusts were slow and simple and
Lucius accepted them, his teeth grinding together as he thought of his lover
and how his lover would be gentle and would kiss the tears of pain awaym
hm
his face as he was taken. His lover would whisper endearing sentiments to him,
not caring that he was a Malfoy and should never be given any sentiments.

If he concentrated hard enough, he could tune out his father and place in his
lover in the man's place. His muscles clenched inside as his mouth let out a
plethora of small moans and whimpers of pain, so different from the internal
blazing of agony he normally felt. This was much more physical.

His father moved again inside of him and he felt the man start to moan louder.
It did not take a genius to realize that the older man was almost done. Lucius
reached out his mind to the Manor, hoping, praying, wishing that his efforts
were not in vain, that he did not go through all of this for nothing.
The Manor was quick to soothe him, telling him, whispering to him in soft sweet
tones that all was well. That she had seen enough to draw her own conclusions.

This knowledge allowed him to sigh happily as his father ejaculated into him.
Not even the sting of the ejaculate against his insides was enough to take down
his mood.

That night, he was sent up to bed without supper. But his mother had plans of
her own. Lucius had refrained from seeing his lover tonight, wanting time to
regain his dignity and he did not feel as though he could walk as silently as
usual. His legs ached and his arse felt sore whenever he sat down. It was best
not to take any chances.

His mother entered his room and woke him from his slumber at eleven PM. She was dressed in a red and white
nightgown, tied in a perfect bow around her waist. Her hair was down and curled
abour far face, neck and shoulders. She took him into her arms and kissed his
forehead and cheeks while whispering, "My son, my son." He was not
sure what to say to this but found that his mother had never looked so beautiful as she did now.

He was led downstairs to the dining room and believed her when she said that
his father had caved in and would let him dine a bit before he went to sleep.
"You are a growing boy, Lucifer. You need your proper nourishment."

He sat at the table, his napkin in his lap, his hands
atop the napkin. He knew his manners and would always behave in a proper way,
befitting for his status. What he could not help was the wriggling he did as he
could not get comfortable on the hard chair. His mother, however, said nothing
of this and she took on the mixed emotions of heavy sadness and raging anger as
she watched. Not for a minute did Lucius think that the anger was meant for
him.

His father did not come down to dinner and Lucius wondered if the man was no
longer there. Had his mother kicked him out, had she had him killed? The
possibilities were endless. But he did not dare ask his mother directly, he
could not. She was not forthcoming with the information and so, he would not
inquire. Subtlety was the essence of a Malfoy. His mother served him a few
pieces of food that looked like sausages. They were burnt all around,
indicating that she had done the cooking instead of leaving it to an Elf.

"Eat up, dear boy."

He took a small bite of the end, remembering his father's erection and feeling
the need to vomit while doing so. How long would he live with these images? How
long would he feel the incessant pounding in his nether regions? The sausage
tasted brittle and smoky.

"I burned them a bit. I think my cooking will improve through the years.
In the meantime, I'm afraid that this is my first shot."

"Where is father?"

"He won't be joining us."

It had been an innocent enough question, the naivety of a young boy. Lucius
smiled at his mother. "I'll go get him. I need to thank him for allowing
me to eat tonight." Part of his reasoning included that he did not want to
suffer his mother's vile cooking, the other part had
to know, needed to know, what had happened to his father. Was he packing right
now? Was he already gone? He darted up from the table and ran to his parents'
bedroom, his mother chasing after him, telling him not to go. Lucius laughed as only the innocent could laugh when being chased
by an adult and feeling the thrill of the chase.

The master bedroom's door was flung open and there lay his father upon the bed.
The mattress that Lucius had been laying upon before was caked with blood, some
of it already dry. The body binding spell had been placed on the man and his
mother quickly scooped up her child, one hand covering his eyes, telling him
not to look, but he had already seen. He had seen his father's hands, the
fingers that had been cut off and were resting on his and his mother's plate.

He knew that if dinner had gone on any longer, he would have eaten his father's
arousal once again. His mind's vision no longer held the threatening image of
the older man's erection pressed to his face, but now spoke of the bloody stump
that rested between his father's legs, his cock and testicles now cut off.

Before he could prevent it, he was crying and his mother was holding him close
to her, shutting the door behind her as her son's arms draped around her neck.
"Hush, little one. You're safe now. It's alright."

Yes, yes, it was alrigEverEverything was alright now. His plan had worked and
soon, his father would be taken away and his position within the Manor would be
fulfilled. His mother would not remarry, not after what just happened. He would
be the only male of the house, just as he had always planned.

The door to the Manor was broken open and it seemed that hundreds of Aurors had
rushed inside when in reality, there could not have
been more than ten. Raids had been the order of the day and in the dark times
of the uprising Lord Voldemort, no chances could be taken. The Malfoy Manor had
been on the list for months now and it was through sheer coincidence that it was
hit at just this time.

Lucius was placed down by his mother as the Aurors descended upon them. Any
moment now, they would look inside the bedroom and find the mess of his father.
Through his blurred tears, he could see one of the Aurors going straight for
him. He moved back against the protective security of his mother and it was
then that he realized the final consequences of his actions. His mother would
be the one taken away, not his father. His father would be healed and would be
back at the Manor. It had worked out wrong. He had failed. He had FAILED!

He had eaten of his father's flesh and had tasted of his father's dried up
blood in that sausage. He had allowed himself to be taken, to be had by that
man who would never equal up to his lover, and it was all for nothing.
Everything was for nothing. As the Aurors placed his mother under arrest, as
they found his father and gasped at the sight, as a female tried to placate the
sobbing hysterical Lucius, the youngest Malfoy found himself flailing, gasping
for air as his world descended into a chaotic whirlwind. Everything had gone
wrong and he would pay, oh, he would pay. His mother was mad, had to be to
consume human flesh. His father would never be right and he was no longer
innocent.

He had betrayed his lover. And it was all for nothing. The world spun around
him and he fell backwards, striking his head hard against the cold floor of the
Manor and surrendering to the darkness.

His life could have been much worse. The end results could have spiraled
completely out of his control. As it was, everything cleared up correctly after
that night. His mother, due to her prestige and background, was placed within
the care of St. Mungo's. She had done her job correctly and not even the best
mediwizards or surgeons could ever reattach her husband's organ. When found,
the member had been grilled with a few onions. Should no one think of what the
pan contained, they would say that it had smelled delightful.

Lucius' father kept his distance from his son after that, as though fearing
that his wife would return if she heard of any mistreatment to her child.
Lucius, for his part, could not remember a thing of what happened that day. He
was sure that if he looked back upon it, he could dig up his repressed memories
and recall the day in detail, but he did not much care to do so. He would
rather focus on other things.

His lover looked back at him with eyes full of wonderment at the beauty that
was in front of him. "I love you." His finger touched his lover's own
as it trailed against the shiny surface. While looking into the depths of his
lover's eyes, he could tell that he was pleased with what he had been given,
but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough and Lucius knew that as long as
he could keep his lover, he could not afford to stop giving him the same gift
over and over.

His lover was a lot like himself.

Disclaimer: Rowling owns all. I only play in her playground.
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