That's EntertainmentAuthor: eeyore9990Characters:
Draco/Lucius, Bellatrix, Voldemort, Snape, DE'sRating:
Dark!!!, Angst, Ic, Nc... just some bad shit, all the way around. Someone's not having a good day, k? Kink Used:
ic, analWord Count:
Immediately follows Draco and Snape's flight from Hogwarts at the end of HBP. This is what happens when you piss off a Dark Lord.Author's Notes:
Dedicated to knightmare_shad
for the beta, friendship, and hand-holding, and lucilla_darkate
for popping my non-con cherry and cheering me on and warring with me when I got totally desperate.
Draco clutched frantically at Snape as the older man Apparated them away from the screamingcrashingburningdying
horror that was the once-peaceful grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
He was scared. No, he was gut-wrenchingly, nauseatingly fucking terrified out of his mind. He had failed. Failed miserably, and in such a way that he wouldn’t be able to hide his failure from him
The pull of Apparation did nothing to ease the burn in his stomach as they landed in a deserted, quiet field. A large manor house stood off to his right, the push of aversion charms making his skin crawl even as he knew that this was it. The temporary dwelling of the Dark Lord himself.
At the knowledge that he would have an audience with the Dark Lord within mere moments, Draco lost his fragile hold on his stomach, and emptied the few roiling contents into the dewy grass, barely managing to miss hitting Snape’s robes and boots.
The surly, ugly man snarled at him to stop being such a whinging, spoiled little brat and jerked him up by the back of his robes. Draco stumbled along beside him, wiping ineffectually at his mouth with his sleeve, all the manners drummed into him by his mother vanishing completely in the face of his rising hysteria.
He was ushered up the hill, into the house, thrust in front of Snape through a set of double doors into a great room, what might have been intended for a ballroom. It was filled with black-robed Death Eaters, all of them deathly silent as they listened to the Dark Lord give an account of the evening, their triumph over Dumbledore, and Snape’s role in it all.
The tang of bile once more rose up Draco’s throat, causing him to gasp and swallow roughly, as the Dark Lord pinned him with a furious gaze, letting him know without words that he was greatly displeased and that Draco would suffer endlessly.
“I think…” the Dark Lord’s voice trailed off, his lipless mouth twisting in what might pass for humour. “I think we will have some entertainment this evening, my precious ones. What say you? Would you like to be entertained?”
Low, fervent murmurs from his totally captivated followers rose up in the room, the timbre of their voices resonating deep within Draco’s chest. He looked around, eyes scanning furtively, seeking at least one person who was not staring with rapt, manic focus at the inhuman madman who controlled them all. The only one who seemed even partially unaffected was Snape, and Draco knew how gifted the man was at Occlumency, so perhaps… Was the Dark Lord using some sort of mind-control on them all? And if so, why didn’t it work on Draco?
He shivered in mild disgust as the Dark Lord called his aunt Bellatrix forward, one scaly hand stroking her cheek as one would a child’s and whispering something to her. Draco strained to hear, but apparently it did not matter that he couldn’t hear because she quickly knelt, kissed the hem of the Dark Lord’s robes, and then hurried to a door tucked into the far corner of the room.
The Dark Lord turned back to his audience of Death Eaters and said, “Tonight, my pets, one of our fold rejoins us. He served faithfully for many years, but his… aptitude… for completing one simple
assignment wasn’t what it should have been, and as a result, several of your rank were imprisoned, he chief among them.” The Dark Lord turned to Bellatrix and waved his hand regally. She smiled, her devotion nearly beautiful, and quickly opened the door, gesturing angrily to someone on the other side.
“Lucius, my… humble… servant. Come forward and receive your… reward.”
A shove between the shoulders from Bellatrix had a scraggly, dirty, unkempt figure stumbling into the room, fierce grey eyes glaring around the room. Draco felt his stomach clench and he moved forward unconsciously. “Father?” he whispered, voice ragged with disbelief. He wanted to rail against his father’s appearance.
The man who had always held himself so proudly, so high above any others, whose hair had always been the smoothest silk, his clothing the height of fashion, was dressed in rags, his hair unrecognisable as blond through all the dirt and grime. His eyes, once so cool and aloof, had a thin layer of anger over the dull sheen of hopelessness. He was a walking advert for Azkaban.
“Draco Malfoy,” the Dark Lord called out, making Draco jump and glance up, calling out a shaky, “Yes, my lord?”
“Come forward, child.” Draco swallowed harshly, remembering once again that he was likely to face the Dark Lord’s wrath for the events of the evening. His failure demanded payment, but Draco wasn’t sure what form that payment would be, or if he would, indeed, survive it.
He walked forward, feet dragging along the polished parquet floor. He halted before the Dark Lord, and dropped to his knees, bending forward to kiss the hem of his robes as he’d been taught. As he straightened back up, a horrid scent wafted from his father’s direction and bile rose up in the back of his throat. Lucius smelled of stale sweat, and urine, and other bodily fluids. Draco shuddered, averting his gaze, trying not to show his disgust.
“You all know,” the Dark Lord said, addressing the crowd of Death Eaters once again, “of my fondness for watching pretty individuals frolicking together. Unfortunately, we have only these two.” His remark drew forth a few chuckles, and wild, high pitched, screeching laughter from Bellatrix, who watched them avidly from the Dark Lord’s side.
Addressing them again, he turned his cold, red eyes on Draco, staring deeply while Draco tried desperately to shield his mind, knowing far too well that he wasn’t likely succeeding. “Draco, have you no welcoming words for your father, whom I have so graciously delivered back to the loving bosom of your family?”
Draco swallowed, not a bit of liquid in his mouth to ease the action. “Father,” he croaked through nearly numb lips. “Welcome home.” It was a weak greeting, but it would have to suffice, because his mind was supplying nothing else but pure fear.
The Dark Lord smiled coldly and shook his head, tsking sarcastically, before turning to Bellatrix, and asking, “My dear, is there something you think young Draco should do for his father, something to welcome him home properly
? After all, I’m sure Lucius here has yearned for the love of his devoted son.”
Bellatrix licked her lips and leaned over, whispering in the Dark Lord’s ear. A cold chuckle erupted from him and he nodded decisively. “Very good, my child. Very good, indeed. Draco,” Draco snapped to attention, eyes staring straight ahead as beads of sweat began to roll down his cheeks from his forehead, “your aunt thinks you should attend to your father’s needs. And, I must say, her idea is inspired. On your knees, boy.”
Draco’s knees hit the floor, his eyes rolling toward Lucius, a question in their depths.
“Do not face me, boy, face your dear, dear father. After all, it shall be his needs
Draco opened his mouth, a question on his lips, but one look at the Dark Lord’s face made him snap his jaw shut and turn toward his father. A flick of the Dark Lord’s hand out of the corner of his eye drew Draco’s attention, but when he turned his gaze back toward his father, the bile rose in his throat once more.
Lucius was standing before everyone, naked. Draco barely managed to suppress a moan of distress. Lucius’ appearance in rags was far superior to his appearance without them. His bones jutted from his jaundiced skin, showing his emaciation. Sores covered his body, from what, Draco wasn’t certain. His cock hung, thick, but limp, between his skinny legs.
“What are you waiting for, boy?” The Dark Lord’s voice was silky, but Draco could hear the threat that laced it. If he didn’t do what the man wanted, he was as good as dead. The only problem was, he really had no idea what he was supposed to be doing
, for fuck’s sake! His breathing became thready and he rolled pleading eyes up to beg his father’s help.
He could see the way Lucius clenched his jaw in fury before his father’s voice cut through the expectant hush of the dozens of Death Eaters. “While the innocent act is amusing, son, I’m certain no one here is fooled even for a moment. So get to it, already. Suck me off, Draco. Or did you have more than that in mind… my lord?”
Harshly indrawn breaths from around the room masked Draco’s own shocked gasp. He didn’t know if he was more alarmed by the thought of giving his father
a blow job, or the pure disgust and irreverence that had been plain in Lucius’ voice as he addressed the Dark Lord.
Cold laughter sounded through the room, but it had only one source. “Did you find courage in Azkaban, Lucius, or did you simply lose your mind? Surely you don’t think to challenge me
, do you?”
Draco began to shake. The Dark Lord had a fickle temper, anyway. To purposefully prick it did not bode well for his father’s future health. Sure enough, no sooner had those words passed his lips than a soft, cold, satisfied “Crucio
” rang out in the deathly silent room.
Draco shrank back from his father’s writhing form, remaining on his knees but putting as much space between the target of the Dark Lord’s current anger and himself. Unfortunately for Lucius, while there might be honour among thieves, there was none among Death Eaters. It was all for self with this bunch.
The Dark Lord turned his head, his expression on the unemotional side of curious as he watched Lucius finally break and scream out in pain. Bellatrix, still at his side, was becoming obviously excited by the proceedings. Her hand was rubbing circles through the midnight fabric of her robes, her eyelids fluttering as she obviously fought to keep them open and watching the little show Lucius was putting on for them. That image would be seared in Draco’s mind for many years to come as one of the most sickeningly haunting of his young life.
, the Dark Lord lifted the curse on Lucius and graciously allowed him a few moments to regain his strength before he turned back to Bellatrix, who was having difficulty containing her disappointment. “I think a small change of plans for the entertainment, my dear. Since young Draco hasn’t had proper… training… for our little scene, perhaps his loving father should teach him? By example, perhaps?”
Bellatrix’ lips spread out in a sinister smile and she clapped her hands in glee. “Yes, my lord. Oh, yes!! Your idea, as always, is perfection itself.”
The Dark Lord’s mouth curved in that sickening expression of pleasure before he turned his red gaze directly on Draco again. “Stand, my loyal
servant. You have much to learn, and I am certain that your father will be a most apt instructor for you.”
When Lucius didn’t move fast enough, the Dark Lord turned, furious, and spat out, “Imperio
Draco wasn’t sure if it would work on a wizard as powerful as Lucius or not, but if Azkaban hadn’t weakened him, the Cruciatus curse must have. Lucius’ cold, grey eyes glazed over and he crawled on all fours to the Dark Lord, his expression slack and waiting.
“Go, pleasure your son with your mouth. Teach him by example what to do to you, so that he might make a proper demonstration when it is his turn.”
Lucius nodded, his movements slow and nearly dream-like.
Draco’s eyes flared wide and he nearly stumbled back from his father before he caught himself and stopped moving completely. This was going to happen. Nothing he could do would change that, and protesting would only serve to have him in the same position Lucius currently enjoyed. Draco tried to quiet the inner voice that whispered to him that he would be in the same situation as Lucius anyway, fight or no.
All thoughts were wiped from his mind when Lucius’ curse-driven hands ripped apart his tattered and dirty school robes before attacking the fastening of his fine, linen trousers. The sound of the button hitting the polished floor pulled a high-pitched, excited sound from Bellatrix, who was watching the proceedings avidly. Draco swallowed heavily when Lucius succeeded in pulling his trousers down around his ankles, his pants following soon thereafter, though they became entangled around his knees.
He watched in fascinated dismay as Lucius opened his mouth wide and then that mouth was sucking on his limp cock. Draco gasped at the liquid heat that surrounded his sensitive flesh. He barely had time to adjust to the fact that his father was sucking his cock
before Lucius’ hands came up and into play.
One went straight for his balls, gently rolling them between long, slightly calloused fingers. Draco closed his eyes and shuddered delicately as he remembered how those hands had looked: dirt and grime imbedded under the once pristine fingernails, cuticles mangled, scrapes and bruises marring them.
He wasn’t trying to fight the sensations at all. As soon as he’d understood what exactly was supposed to happen, he’d known that the only outcome the Dark Lord would accept would be his and Lucius’ total and complete humiliation before the rest of the Death Eaters. They weren’t simply entertainment; they were an object lesson in what happened to those who displeased the Dark Lord.
He tried desperately to block all thought from his mind and focus, instead, on the feeling of a hot mouth sucking him off. His fear of the Dark Lord was keeping him soft, blocking everything else out. If he could just focus on something other than that, this whole episode could be finished the sooner.
With his eyes closed, he tried to picture any of the girls of his acquaintance doing this to him. The problem was, he had no experience to truly draw from. The only girls he’d ever done anything with were Slytherin girls, and they were all as devious and selfish as the next. They
would not go down on anyone
without there being something in it for them. Lucius being in Azkaban had certainly put a damper on his love life.
Finally, Lucius did something with his tongue that forced a reaction from Draco. He gasped again, his hips moving forward as a small flush rose up his chest and spilled into his pale cheeks. He didn’t know what Lucius had done, but he was oddly grateful to him for whatever it was. He didn’t relish feeling the stabbing, biting pain of the Cruciatus curse for failing to get off.
“Fuck his mouth. Take that pretty little cock and fuck his mouth with it.” Bellatrix’ voice, husky with her own sick pleasure, snapped Draco’s attention back on the other people in the room and he had a hard time not losing the half-erect state he’d managed to attain.
Draco could hear harsh breathing coming from several of the black-robed figures throughout the room, now. He swallowed down his bile at the thought of so many people getting off on this incestuous display, but his disgust was short-lived. He didn’t know who did it, or where it came from, but he heard a lust spell muttered just before his body was flooded by hot, breath-stealing passion.
A low moan was ripped from his throat, and his hands came up to bury themselves in Lucius’ hair, the lice crawling through it only serving to make the sensitive nerve endings in his palms come alive.
While his body was now fully ready and on fire with lust, his mind was split nearly in half. Part of it was fogged with the hazy effects of the spell, but the other part, a small part that seemed trapped inside a locked cage, was still aware of everything going on around him, was still deeply afraid, but no longer in charge of his body. That part paid close attention to what was going on around him.
“Who cast that spell?” the Dark Lord hissed, his anger crackling through the room, causing deep wounds on several of his hapless followers. Blood was running freely from a cut on Bellatrix’ face, but she simply put two fingers to it and pressed, delighting in the pain that caused. She was completely focused on Lucius and Draco, still calling out hoarse words of encouragement to Lucius, the hand not playing in her own blood rubbing frantically at her groin.
Two Death Eaters brought another forth, a man Draco did not recognize. He had sandy brown hair and his hazel eyes were wide with trepidation, which turned nearly instantly to terror when the Dark Lord smiled cruelly and said, “I am much too busy with tonight’s entertainment to see to your punishment. Bellatrix, my dear, would you do me the favour of showing this young man what happens when one displeases me?”
Bellatrix, attention captivated by the promise of causing someone pain, cried out sharply, her eyes closing as she gave in to her orgasm. She stood trembling for a moment before licking her lips and turning worshipful eyes to the Dark Lord. “Yeeeees. Oh, yes, I will show him. Thank you, my lord. Thank you.”
The Dark Lord nodded at her, dismissing everything but Lucius and Draco from his mind, ignoring completely Bellatrix’ manic shout of “Avada Kedavra!”
Turning back to them, he furrowed his brow and hissed out, “What are you waiting for? I didn’t tell you to stop!”
Draco would have paled at the menace in the Dark Lord’s voice, but the lust spell still had him firmly in its grip, and Lucius still held his cock firmly in his mouth. He groaned, his head dropping back, as Lucius flicked the tip of his tongue into the slit at the tip of his cock, then pressed firmly into the vein on the underside as he sucked almost harshly on Draco’s cock, taking the full length of it all the way down, his tongue rubbing the whole way.
Draco tightened his grip in Lucius’ hair, his whole mind now focused on the pleasure that was spiralling through his body. Having never had anyone suck him off, it wasn’t long before Lucius’ expert fellatio skills had Draco’s balls tightening against his body as his breath stuttered in his chest.
Draco rose up on his toes and his back arched almost painfully as his orgasm was ripped from his body in long, oddly debilitating pulses. When it was over, Draco was completely drained, more so than after a normal orgasm. His weariness was short-lived, however, because all too soon, Lucius was being ordered to his feet by the Dark Lord.
The lust spell, which by all rights should have ended with the death of the unfamiliar Death Eater, sparked to life once more in the pit of Draco’s belly. His cock, which should have been quiescent in post-coitus, rose slowly from his slick, wet nest of pale curls. His mouth watered as he went to his knees before Lucius, the thick cock still dangling between his legs.
Draco leaned forward, his body no longer following the dictates of his mind. He sucked the very tip of Lucius’ cock into his mouth, the taste sharp and bitter. He tried vainly to block the scent of his father, but since he could only breath through his nose, that was impossible. Draco moaned around his mouthful, trying not to gag, both at the scent and at the full head of Lucius’ cock pressing firmly into his throat, triggering his gag reflex.
"Such a pretty mouth, little Drakey. Are you quite
certain you've never done this before? Ooohhh, I think Daddy dearest likes
it. What a twisted, sick man you are, Lucius. It's almost an honour to call you my sister's husband." Bellatrix’ voice was syrupy sweet, causing Draco to close his eyes lest the anger in them show too obviously. He wanted to scream at her that his father had been cursed into this, but he wondered what that said of him.
No one, after all, had truly forced him to do this. He was doing it because he was afraid of what might happen if he didn’t, true, but… he hadn’t even expressed a moment of doubt or dismay upon understanding what they wanted of him. What did that mean?
Draco pushed those thoughts away and focused instead on the task in front of him. He vaguely remembered Lucius doing something to his balls when he’d sucked Draco off. He lifted one hand from where it was braced against Lucius’ thigh and fell a bit forward, his throat convulsing a bit as he gagged strongly around Lucius’ cock.
"Now, now, Draco, honey. No teeth. Surely even you know that? Hmm? No? Well, let me give you some pointers, then..."
Laughter greeted that remark from Bellatrix from nearly all the Death Eaters in the room. Draco made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and tugged a bit harder than absolutely necessary on Lucius’ balls.
The Dark Lord made a sound of satisfaction at that and told Draco to back off for a moment. Draco stopped sucking immediately, drawing back from Lucius to let the Dark Lord measure his willingness to perform.
The Dark Lord turned to his captive audience with a cruel smirk. “I think we should allow Lucius to enjoy his son completely. Do you agree?” A chorus of affirmative answers resounded through the room, and with a flick of his wrist, the Dark Lord lifted the Imperius curse from Lucius.
A slow blink hid the rage that flared to life in Lucius’ eyes. Lifting his foot, he placed it on Draco’s shoulder and kicked, knocking Draco onto his back, his head smacking against the floor. A low, menacing sound from Lucius kept Draco from pushing back up. He lay there, wide eyes warily watching the stranger his father had become.
Lucius’ gaze lifted from Draco and swept the room with a sneer, finally coming to rest on Bellatrix and the Dark Lord. “You want entertainment? Then watch
, and be entertained.”
He lowered himself to his knees, brutally pushing Draco’s thighs apart, making Draco’s breath catch in a combination of true fear and the false lust that still raged through him. Lucius reached down with his hands, pulling the cheeks of Draco’s arse apart, his thumbs joining in the crack and harshly circling his hole, pressing in occasionally.
Draco made a small sound when Lucius suddenly forced both thumbs through, his back arching as he tried to pull his hips back, tried to get away from the pain that seared through him, flowing up his spine and star-bursting behind his clenched-tight eyelids. When Lucius managed to work both thumbs palm-deep into Draco, he spread his hands apart, widening the hole abruptly and making Draco scream as his feet backpedaled, slipping without finding purchase against the polished floor.
“Oh, yes,” Lucius murmured, eyes raking dispassionately over his sobbing son. “Pure, unequivocal entertainment.” He worked up a mouthful of spittle and released it directly into Draco’s stretched anus, spreading it into and around with his slightly bloody thumbs.
Draco twisted, trying to break free of Lucius’ grip, his tear-blind eyes flying open, panting and whimpering. The lust from the spell was completely overwhelmed by the pain and fear that warred within him. He frantically scanned the room, the lights in sconces on the walls creating a kaleidoscope effect with the tears that gathered in the corners of his eyes, spilling in a steady stream down his cheeks.
The room spun around him, creating a carnival fun house effect on Draco’s hysterical mental state. All he could see was face after laughing, jeering face, each of them enjoying his humiliation, some of them watching much too closely, enjoying it much too well. Draco moaned and went limp. There would be no help for him here, no one to save him, no one who would care enough to put a stop to this, and he couldn’t fight. If he fought this, he’d die.
As his panic ebbed out of him in favour of complete apathy, Lucius settled between his legs and put his lips right next to Draco’s ear. “Shall we entertain them, my son? Shall we feed their darkest desires?”
Draco didn’t respond, just lay there and let whatever would come, come.
Lucius grunted and spit into his hand, smoothing the handful of liquid over his thick cock. Without a moment of notice, no warning whatsoever to Draco, no further preparation, he forced his entire length into his son. Draco didn’t even flinch. His mind was too far gone from the painful ordeal his body was suffering.
For interminable moments, Lucius thrust and grunted and cursed, plunging in and out of Draco’s tight, once more dry body, face screwed up in a grimace of dark pleasure. Over and over, in and out, thrust, retreat. Draco retreated further and further into his mind, his consciousness hiding from the pain of not only his father’s rape, but also his betrayal. Finally, Lucius’ body stiffened, and then he gave a short shout as he expelled his release into Draco.
Rolling over, he fell against the floor, breathing harsh in the strained silence of the room. Chuckling softly, he rolled to his side and pushed to his feet. He strode casually across the room, coming to a halt in front of Bellatrix, seemingly unmindful of his nudity. Leaning in, he whispered in her ear, “Were you entertained, Bella? Ah, yes, I can smell that you certainly were. Wonderful. You won’t mind, then, if I borrow this
.” With no further warning, he swept his hand down her arm, yanking the wand from her loose grip.
Spinning, he pointed it at each Death Eater in turn until he’d made a complete revolution, coming to a stop with the wand pointed straight at the Dark Lord’s chest. A wild, crazed laugh bubbled up and out of Lucius’ throat, spilling through the room and raising hair on more than one neck. A few robed figures shuddered at the madness in Lucius’ actions. Draco simply stared, psyche as wounded and weary as his bleeding body.
Lucius waggled the wand back and forth, grinning at the Dark Lord, as he said, “Entertainment, so highly underrated. Did you enjoy this evening’s entertainment? Hmm? Can
you enjoy such entertainments anymore, Tom?” Turning to Draco, he snorted and said, “I don’t think the ‘coming back to life’ thing worked so well for him, son.”
When Draco didn't answer swiftly enough, Lucius walked over and nudged his jaw with his foot, causing Draco to retract his arms and legs, curling up to protect himself from further harm even as an animalistic whimper escaped his lips. His haunted grey eyes threw silent accusation at Lucius, wordlessly branding him a betrayer.
“Would you look at that, Tom? I do believe I broke your toy. Ah well, nothing to do for it, now. Avada Kedavra!” A bolt of green light streaked from the wand, striking its unsuspecting target.
Lucius smirked and said, “Now that’s