Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Deathsong Balladeer	By : TheLadyFeylene Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 3018 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Disclaimer: Lucius and Draco don't belong to me, nor do Severus or Harry.

WARNING: NC-17. Slash. Incest. Sexual abuse. Semi-nonconsensual sex. Disturbing situations. Violence. Torture. This is another highly disturbing installation, though I say that every other chapter. But please heed the warnings and remember that there is sexual abuse, incest and disturbing situations ahead.

And of course, to Kitten and Moira. Kitten, I know you've been waiting for this. I hope it lives up to your expectations. And I know I call it a case, but to me a case seems far more elegant then a bag.

Darkness Descending

Lucius sat back in the black leather chair, eyes half closed, glass of fine red wine beside him, along with an open book. The funeral had been earlier that day, a tired affair. He had a slight headache, and no desire to deal with Narcissa's whining and wailing. She had already retired to her bedroom, but Lucius did not want to risk her pestering him.

//Stupid woman.// Lucius could hardly tolerate his wife, and spent as little time in her company as possible. It had been an arranged marriage, more or less. She was from a wealthy family, purebloods of course. And there had been no question that Lucius needed to marry, and produce a male offspring. Luckily for him, Draco had been born male. He took little pleasure in coupling with women. He hadn't touched her since Draco's conception.

//She did give you a fine son, Lucius.// His thin lips curved back in a smile when he thought of Draco. //There is little complaint there...he does as he is told. His grades could be better, however. Prefect he may be, but I expect nothing short of Head Boy. I shall have to remind him that second best is not acceptable for a Malfoy.//

It had been a while since Draco had had his last 'reminder'. And Lucius was in a rather foul mood. //I can't get that woman's sobs out of my head. She cried at the funeral...showing weakness in front of all the guests. Draco was able to keep his composure...men are stronger then women. Women should stay in their place, and not make a spectacle of themselves. But don't think on it. Fill your mind with pleasant thoughts. The Potter boy....//

Yes, that was far more pleasant to think on. Lucius' eyes closed completely, and he took a sip of wine. He could remember the way the boy bled, crimson spray on marble flesh and grey stone floor. He had bucked and writhed and squirmed in a most delightful way. But no scream...//Perhaps I should have tried harder. He would have screamed, if Sev had helped. But no...he has always had a holier-then-thou air about him, playing the martyr. Doesn't like getting his hands dirty anymore. He did enjoy the show however...perhaps I should pay another visit.//

Remembering the event had excited him. He felt a stirring between his legs, and sighed. He shifted in his seat, licking his lips. //He came so close to screaming. Maybe I didn't cut him deep enough. Sev said I hurt him badly...what would he know? He studied the human body, but he's been out of practice for years. It's high time he came out of retirement, so to speak. He could keep them alive for days...// Memories came flooding back, and Lucius hand strayed to his lap, sliding beneath his robes.

//He once skinned a man alive... such a beautiful sight, really. A writhing creature, all glistening muscles...I never knew muscles were so shiny. It was like a living being of blood...// Those had been the days, early on, when they had graduated school. They had gone straight into the ranks of the Death Eaters, embracing the life they offered eagerly. Lucius had been a supporter since the name Voldemort had been whispered in the shadows. He knew power when he saw it, and he had wanted a piece for himself.

//How could anyone not see the glory of the Dark Lord? He is our savior, and he will lead us to the golden age.// Those who denied Lord Voldemort confused and bewildered Lucius to no end. To him there was no choice. A man served his lord, and the only lord worth serving was Voldemort. Lucius had found that truth early on in life. He had servith ith all of his heart, devoting his life to Voldemort's cause. And his father before him had served, and his son after him would serve as well. Draco had accepted the teachings of the Dark Lord without question, and seemed enthusiastic about it.

//This is pointless. I have no need to pleasure myself when Draco is home.// Lucius rose, ringing for the new house elf. The idiot Potter boy had tricked him into releasing the first. The new one was pathetic, but what did one expect from a House Elf?

"You is wanting me, sir?"

"Yes. Summon my son, please." Lucius returned to his seat, settling down with a sigh. he hadn't spoken with Draco in a long time, anyway. Not really. He hadn't said anything on the news of his grandmother's death, had simply nodded. He was so strong....Lucius smiled. He was quite proud of his son. He had feared Narcissa would produce a weak heir. She was a weak woman. But no, she had far exceeded Lucius' expectations.

"You wanted to see me, father?"

"AH....Draco." Lucius turned, smile curving the corners of his lips as his eyes fell on his son. "Come. Sit." he held out his hand, devouring the sight of the boy. He was slim and pale, skin nearly translucent and eyes like steel. He had his mother's vulpine features, high cheekbones and pointed chin. He was dressed for bed, black satin pajamas. He had grown up quite a bit in the last year, Lucius reflected. He no longer resembled a child in the least.

"Yes father." Draco took his father's hand, and knelt obediently on the floor, resting his head in Lucius' lap.

"How is your schooling, then?" Lucius asked, stroking Draco's hair absently. It was like corn silk, flaxen and soft.

"Fine, father. I've the second best grades in my year."

"Second best?" Lucius raised an eyebrow, fingers sliding between the satiny locks.

"Yes. That stupid mud-blood Granger knows everything."

"Hmmm." The elder Malfoy frowned. He didn't like anyone outdoing his son. "She will get what is coming to her, in time."

"Yes, father." Draco's eyes were closed, and a tender look passed over Lucius' face. Moments such as these were not entirely rare. There was a small frown on his son's lips, and the boy seemed distant.

"You seem sad, Draco. What is wrong?"

"Just grandmamma." He said, with a small sigh.

"Yes, you and your grandmother were close. But you must not mourn. Mourning is for the weak. Are you weak, Draco?"

"No, father."

"Of course not." Lucius twined his fingers in Draco's hair. "Come." he held his hands out, lifting Draco off of the floor and easing him into his lap. Draco settled in quickly, nestling against fat father's chest. Lucius resumed stroking his hair, tucking his head under his chin.

"Things are going very well for us right now, my son." Lucius continued. "And that makes me a very happy man."

"Yes father."

It seemed Draco had been more deeply affected by his grandmother's death then he wanted to let on. Lucius understood that. //I am hard on him, but it is no more then my father did for me.// He pressed his cheek against the top of Draco's head, relishing in the feel of silken hair against his skin. //Pain makes us strong. Had I not been so hard on him, he would be as weak as his mother. He has learned the most important lesson of all. The only thing that is real is pain.//

"It is tempting to be weak." Lucius continued. "But you have done well to resist that temptation. That fool headmaster of your school is weak. As is the foolish Potter boy. But I have taught you well."

"You have, father." Draco looked up, and looked into his father's eyes. The innocence that Lucius saw there made him smile. So trusting and fragile...but there was nothing fragile about Draco. His lips were slightly parted, and the firelight gleamed in his silvery grey eyes. //So beautiful...so very beautiful...// Hand still cradling Draco's head, Lucius leaned forward, pressing his lips lightly against his son's. It was a luxury he rarely allowed Draco, this tender affection. He felt the boy's lips move against his own, hesitant and soft. It was almost like kissing air. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was far more for Draco's benefit then Lucius'. It wasn't gentleness that aroused Lucius, but he knew there were some who enjoyed it. And obviously Draco was one of them. He would allow this, to help the boy, and reward him for his dignity and display of strength earlier in the day.

"Father..." Draco mumbled against his father's lips, hands reaching up to settle on Lucius' shoulders. His kisses became deeper, tongue flicking out to trace Lucius' lips. His hands moved upwards, tangling in his father's hair with a fervor. He held himself close, making soft mewling noises. He was...taking the initiative? Small, delicate hands traveled back downwards, to grip at Lucius' robes, pulling at the fabric. This would not do.

"Draco..." Tone warning, hand grabbing pale wrists. Soft grey eyes rose, fear evident in them. "What are you doing, Draco?"

"N-nothing." The eyes dropped again. Lucius' hand darted out, catching Draco sharply on the cheek. There was a resounding crack, and a sharp intake of breath as flesh hit flesh.

"Good." It did not take much to raise Lucius Malfoy's temper, and Draco had done so. He had been in a poor mood beforehand, and it had returned with a vengeance. //How dare he! Insolent brat...I suppose he must be reminded who is in charge.// "Now. Go and get me my case. I am going to have to punish you."

Draco tensed, eyes widening, but he said nothing. He nodded, and slid bonelessly off of his father's lap, padding slowly over to a large glass cabinet. Beside it, between the cabinet and a desk, was a small black leather case. Draco picked it up. It was taking far too long, and with every timid step Draco took Lucius' temper grew. //He must be reminded. He must act quickly when told to. He must remember who his masters are.//

"Here father." Draco held up the case, and Lucius took it, placing it on his lap. He dragged his gaze over his son, lips curling as he noted Draco's shivers. Was he showing fear? That would not do at all. The fire made his black satin pajamas shine, and he looked paler then normal. He was so pale, and Lucius was quite happy with that. Pale skin bruised so much easier. He turned his attention to his case, hands running over the smooth surface. What w he he use tonight? "Shall I remove my clothing?"

"Hmmm?" Lucius glanced up, raising a questioning eyebrow at his son. "Oh? Yes, please do." He sat back, folding his hands to watch. Draco divested himself of his clothing in a quick, practiced manner. Pulling his shirt off, then his pants, folding them and dropping them on the floor. Yes, he was definitely trembling. But he stood proudly, arms at his sides and head tilted back. Lucius smiled, drinking in the sight. Smooth expanses of unblemished skin, fire kissed and soft. He nodded to Draco, assuring him he was pleased. He popped open the clasps on the case, eyes falling from his son to the various metal instruments that nestled in black velvet. He dipped his hand down, retrieving a simple knife, slim and delicate looking. The hilt was ivory, and the blade more a straight razor then a true blade. It was one of his favorites, when punishing his son. He placed the open case on the table beside the chair, and rose.

"You have brought this upon yourself, Draco." Lucius said, beckoning his son forward. Draco stood before his father, eyes downcast. Lucius shook his head, tilting Draco's head up and placing the point of the blade beneath his chin.

"Yes, father." Draco answered, voice devoid of emotion. Lucius flicked his wrist, the blade biting into the pearlescent flesh of Draco's chin, a drop of blood clinging to the tip. Draco made no sound or movement. He rarely did, this early on. It was taking more and more to get a reaction out of him. Lucius kept his own facial expression calm, no smile curving his lips now. He traced a sinuous, snake like pattern down Draco'eek,eek, eyes flashing as the blood welled up, not yet flowing but simply highlighting the shallow cut. He would get some enjoyment out of this. But he grew bored with the knife already. He dragged the edge of the knife quickly and fluidly across Draco's chest, deep enough to draw forth a steady trickle of blood. The boy winced, but other then that made no acknowledgement of the pain.

//Has he grown so strong, or is he merely defiant?// Lucius wondered, idly cleaning the knife blade. He returned it to its place among its brothers, and his hand hovered for a moment, before retrieving a slim paddle-like device. He had grown rather fond of it. The handle was smooth, and the flat end curved slightly, and was meant to be sharp. He allowed it to dull, however. Dull was sometimes far better than sharp. //This would work far better were he lying down, and I've no wish to crouch on the floor.// Lucius frowned, and returned the paddle to the case.

"Get dressed. We will continue in my chambers."

***

Lucius was silent as he led Draco through the empty, echoing hallways of the Malfoy manner. His son followed behind, keeping a steady pace. Lucius bedroom was empty, a fire already going in the hearth. Setting his case down and flipping it open, he jerked his head in Draco's direction, signaling for him to prepare himself.

"Lie down on the bed." Lucius instructed, eyes lingering on the slim form. The blood had dried in cracking black patterns on Draco's chest and stomach, but his pale back was devoid of any marks. Lucius was always quick to heal any scarring on the boy. He preferred ivory perfection. Taking the metal paddle out once again, he knelt on the bed next to Draco, running his fingers down the boy's spine.

"Let this be a reminder to you." He said, bringing the paddle down sharply between Draco's shoulder blades. His lips twitched at the shudder the blow elicited. He struck again and again, never in the same place twice. Draco flinched and jerked and whimpered, but that was all. His back was red and welted, but had yet to bleed. Lucius used only the flat of the paddle, not the edge. But he changed tactics quickly, twisting the instrument in his hand and dragging it harshly down Draco's back. Blood spurted forth from the jagged cut, and Lucius pulled his robes out of the way. He didn't enjoy getting them dirty. He cut into Draco's back again, perpendicular to the first cut. More blood, mingling with the first wave, flowing over the white skin. Lucius licked his lips, feeling his desire grow.

Placing the curved edges between Draco's shoulder blades, Lucius twisted, metal digging in and under the flesh. His son cried out, loudly. Lucius closed his eyes, and quickly shucked off his own robes. He slid his hands over Draco's back, sliding them through the slick, sticky blood. He smeared it across supple flesh, sighing at the trembling and quivering of muscles beneath his touch. He slid fingers into the deep wounds, caressing the ragged shreds of flesh he found there. He raised his hand to his mouth, licking the blood off, savoring the taste. Draco's back was painted completely in blood, the small of his back tinged pink where his skin still shown through. His face was buried in his arms, and he was shuddering. Stretching himself out over his son, Lucius drew his tongue along the long cut down his spine, feeling the muscles twitching as he did so. Draco drew in a sharp breath, gasping as Lucius' tongue invaded him. He gripped the boy�s hips, fingers sliding for purchase on the slick skin. He bit at the edge of the cut, taking the torn flesh between his teeth. His hardness pressed against Draco's thigh, insistent and pulsing. He would not be able to hold off taking the boy much longer.

Taking up the paddle again, he dragged it lightly across Draco's buttocks, barely scratching him. He drew away from the metal though, whimpering. He knew what Lucius had planned, and that only made it all the better. Driven on by his now maddening need for release, Lucius shoved the paddle roughly inside of Draco, moaning softly at the yelp of pain that greeted the movement. He had no desire for finesse, he simply wanted the boy bleeding when he took him. He had discovered that made it much more pleasurable. He twisted the paddle sharply, then withdrew it, smiling at the blood that now coated it. He tossed it aside, shoving Draco's legs apart roughly. He propped himself up with his arms, his hardness nestling between Draco's thighs, and he could feel the blood beginning to drip onto it...

//My lord...// Lucius drove himself in ruthlessly, groaning with pleasure as hot warmth embraced him and Draco hissed, every muscle in his body tensing and clenching. His inner muscles squeezed Lucius' shaft, and he moaned loudly, pumping with quick, ferocious strokes. The blood made it so easy, and he slid in and out with a hot insistence, moaning lowly as he took his pleasure. Draco was writhing beneath him, trying to pull away. He was whimpering, but at least he had stopped pleading. Lucius bent down, teeth latching onto Draco's neck as he rose up on his hands and knees, impaling himself further on his father. Lucius made a whimpering noise not unlike what his son was making, teeth digging deeper into Draco's flesh, breaking the skin. Blood blossomed hot and sweet over Lucius' tongue, and he threw back his head, feeling flesh tear as he did so, and Draco tightened again, and Lucius felt himself climaxing, shuddering and screaming as he emptied himself into Draco.

Afterwards, he hated the blood. He rolled off of his son, grimacing at the sticky red mess that covered the bed and the boy. And, he noted looking down, himself. He pulled his wand from the pocket of his discarded robes, and uttered a charm that cleaned the blood from the sheets and comforter. He left the blood on Draco, however, preferring to clean that up by hand.

"I hope this has taught you something." Lucius said, summoning a pitcher of water and a cloth. Draco only nodded. He often didn't speak for good length of time after these sessions. Lucius was silent, methodically wiping away the blood, eyeing his handiwork critically. He would allow the wounds to heal naturally, fixing any scarring at a later date. The places where his fingers had dug in were already starting to bruise, brilliantly purple and livid. "You did well. You may sleep here, with me, if you wish." Again, there were no words, but Draco nodded. He always stayed, silent and small, curled against his father until he fell into a deep sleep. Lucius cleaned himself, and traced a finger down the ragged line on Draco's back. It was no longer bleeding, but it was pink and raw. He would perhaps take him again, the next morning, before sending him back to school. It would be a while before he came home again.

Stretching himself out on the bed, he opened his arms, and Draco rolled over into them. Lucius shook his head, chucking. There were tears on the boy�s cheeks, and Lucius wiped them away. "Don't cry Draco. We've been over that." His voice was deceptively soft. //He must not show any weakness. Of course, Severus says it's an instinctive reaction. Pain causes tears. I shall give him the benefit of the doubt.// "It's all right. It happens. But you will get used to this, and you won't cry any more. We will simply increase your sessions."

"Mmmm." Draco whimpered, nodding. His hair brushed against Lucius' chest, soft and damp. He was sweating, and Lucius stroked his back lightly, fingers trailing over damaged and undamaged flesh alike. He enjoyed this, the aftermath, almost as much as the coupling. He kissed Draco's forehead, inhaling the heady scent of sweat and blood. He pulled the boy closer to him, tangling his legs with his son�s, and drawing a light coverlet over them both.

//I am truly blessed.// Lucius thought to himself. //I could not have asked for a finer son. He is all I could have asked for. He will serve me and our lord well. A pity Narcissa insisted that he go to Hogwarts. He would have done better at Durmstang. But his home education is going well. He is well on his way to mastering the Dark Arts. Yes, he is all I had hoped for.// Burying his face in his son's hair, Lucius slid into a sated sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
- 8
- 9
- 10
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Deathsong Balladeer