Author: eeyore9990
Title: Pretty Little Butterfly
Pairing: Draco/Fenrir
Rating: NC-17
Kink: Rape
Warnings: Nc, graphic sex, violence.
Word Count: 2775
A/N: Thanks to lucilla_darkate for inspiration, word warring, hand holding, and beta. This fic is inspired in part by this art by vikingcarrot. Also, I'm aware that my last two month's themes have been rather dark, so next month, it's just gonna be pure smut. Now, to do that with the prompts. o.O
Disclaimer: Not mine, only borrowing. No one has showered me with money, yet, so... *sigh* Not even breaking any laws.

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“Rise, my child, and glory in the knowledge that you are one of my Chosen.”

Draco rose to his feet gracefully, pride swelling within him, even as the searing pain of the Dark Mark continued to burn against his arm. He smiled coolly, turning to lock gazes with his father, warmed through by the sincere pleasure he saw reflected in his father’s normally cold eyes.

As he started to walk away, a cruel hand gripped his arm, holding him still. He stiffened, then turned to the Dark Lord, gaze respectfully resting no higher than the top button of his robes as he waited to see what was required of him.

“As each of my Children has done, it is now time for you to prove your devotion to me.” A significant pause followed this statement, prompting Draco to gather his thoughts and respond.

“My devotion is unwavering, my Lord. Whatever you require, I will accomplish with utmost joy at the opportunity to serve you.”

A soft, cold chuckle, then, “We shall see, boy. We shall, indeed, see.” A long, thin, painfully dry finger traced the curve of his cheek before the Dark Lord’s voice rose, projecting throughout the room. “You shall spend tonight sequestered with my faithful servant, Greyback. You will be armed with only your wits and whatever wandless magic you possess. Should you survive the night, you will have earned your robes and mask.” A charged silence greeted this pronouncement. No one moved, no one breathed, and Draco remained upright despite the crippling fear that flooded him.

Realising a response was required, Draco swallowed, throat achingly dry with terror, and managed to state in a voice that quavered minimally, “Whatever you require, my Lord, I will see to with pleasure and eagerness.”

The Dark Lord chuckled loudly, clapping Draco on the back, and turned to address a tall, hulking figure that nearly blended into the shadows and smoke darkened stone behind him. “Enjoy your treat, Fenrir. You have earned it.”

A cold frisson of fear skated along Draco’s spine, growing steadily more powerful as the figure separated himself from the shadows against the wall and walked on lumbering feet toward him. Not pausing in his stride, Greyback gripped the back of Draco’s neck in one meaty paw and pulled him along behind him.

Draco tried to control his frantically racing heart, tried to calm his fear, knowing the werewolf would be able to detect both with his heightened senses. Draco had heard too many stories of the man’s proclivities to endanger himself if he could help it.

He was led down several darkened corridors before being thrust into a small cell-like room. The door was stout oak, bands of steel reinforcing the place where the hinges were attached. As the door shut behind them with a hushed thud, Draco could hear the sound of a bolt sliding on the outside, locking them in together.

Draco remained perfectly still, hands clenched inside his robes as he concentrated on keeping his breathing slow and even. He attempted to enter a meditative, trance-like state, knowing that it was the best way to ensure he didn’t emit all those signals that seemed to enflame the desires of the beast he was imprisoned with.

He was as powerful a sixteen year old as any of his peers, but his wandless magic was not strong enough to help him survive this night. He closed his eyes, focusing on his body, imagining his blood slowing, thickening in his veins, envisioning a bubble of protection wrapping around himself, forcing down the panic that had risen so spectacularly in the throne room.

“Come here, boy,” growled Greyback, the timbre of his voice making the fine hairs at Draco’s nape rise as a slight shiver shook his body. Draco drew in a steadying breath and took a few steps, nearly crossing the length of the room. He halted when he was close enough to Greyback that the man wouldn’t be able to say he’d balked, but still far enough away to put himself out of reach quickly, if need be. Not that there was really anywhere to go.

He pulled in another breath and raised deceptively calm, bland eyes to examine Greyback’s features. There was a ruddiness to his cheeks, and a slightly dark sheen to his eyes. Draco knew the man preferred youth in his… victims, and hoped strongly that he was old enough, far enough past puberty, to ensure that the man wouldn’t become overly excited by him. Excitement would be… bad.

Draco maintained his silence and his steady breathing, simply waiting for whatever would come next. The attack, when it came, was so sudden that it drove the breath from Draco’s lungs and surprised a tiny shriek from him. He was grabbed by his shoulders and yanked up, feet dangling off the floor as Greyback buried his nose in Draco’s neck, breathing deeply, pulling Draco’s scent into himself.

Draco went still, anything to keep from arousing Greyback’s passions, either to blood or to sex. His hands were trembling, so he curled them slowly upon themselves, trying to still even that small motion. Greyback growled against the long column of his throat, the sound menacing.

Draco swallowed and breathed shallowly, eyes stretched wide as he stared, unseeing, at the ceiling. Suddenly, the hands gripping him tightened, then tightened further until he was unable to hold back a small, pained sound. As soon as that noise left him, he found himself sailing through the air to land in an aching heap on the threadbare mattress of the single bed that took up nearly one entire wall of the room.

Draco lay, stunned, and all too soon, Greyback was there, ripping at his clothing, tearing it from his body so roughly that there would be burn marks later. Draco’s heart was in his throat and he was paralysed by the fear that held him more painfully in its grasp than Greyback had.

Greyback’s breath was coming in high-pitched, whining pants, the sound reminding Draco of that enormous dog of Hagrid’s. His own breathing sped up, and his arms rose, helplessly attempting to fend off the animal that loomed above him, lips pulled back from sharp looking teeth.

Without warning, a hand came down and swiped at his stomach. He watched in horrified fascination as the thick, yellowed fingernails drew four thin lines of blood along his abdomen. A coldness settled into his marrow, and he raised his hands, pressing them over the wounds.

Greyback tossed back his head, a wild laugh bursting from his throat. “You think I would kill you so soon? No boy, I have plans for your succulent, pure blood flesh. I’m going to fuck you, boy.” At Draco’s flinch, his laughter dropped to deep, satisfied chuckles. “Ahh, virgin blood is so much sweeter. Don’t worry. You won’t have it anymore after this evening. Virginity or blood.”

Draco whimpered in fear, all thought of trying to control the beast that resided in Greyback vanishing in the face of his impending death. He rolled left, trying to get away, but Greyback simply dropped his body on top of Draco’s. Draco shrieked in pain as that weighty body came crashing down on his slim, nearly delicate form. He was certain that his ribs were bruised, if not cracked.

Pleading noises spilled from his throat, but he had sunk too far into his terror to make them understandable. Greyback shifted up and grabbed his wrists, slick with blood from his now-stinging belly, snapping his arms upright, nearly yanking them from his sockets. “Keep them there, or I’ll rip them off,” he warned.

Draco swallowed another moan of pain, tears streaming down his cheeks, eyes and lips pinched shut, liquid dripping from his nose, bubbling up on harshly expelled breaths. Teeth sank into his throat, not stopping until the skin erupted, rewarding the hot mouth with ruby red blood. Draco’s body twisted at the pain, prompting Greyback to lift up and growl, “I’ll be putting more than my teeth in you before the night’s done.”

Draco moaned around a choking sob, struggling now to get away. His loyalty to the Dark Lord did not extend to his death at the hands of this creature. He wondered wildly, in a part of his brain not focused on getting free, where his father was, and why he was letting this happen. He opened his mouth to plead, only to draw Greyback’s attention to that orifice.

Sharp teeth nipped at his bottom lip, the action so far removed from a kiss that Draco saw it only as yet another attack. The coppery taste of blood choked him, and was the impetus his frantic body needed to flood his muscles with the adrenalin they required to throw the much heavier man off of him and jump from the bed, fleeing to the far side of the room. It wasn’t until he reached the door that he noticed there was no doorknob. The door on this side was flush with the wall, a thin crack the only break in the smooth line.

He screamed in fear and fury, attacking the door with his bare hands, momentarily certain that he would be able to get through several hundred pounds of wood and steel, not to mention the bolt, and make good his escape. A chuckle right next to his ear disabused him of that notion. He spun around, hands raised to ward off or defend himself.

He began shouting curses and hexes, trying to direct them through his hands, and there wasn’t so much as the sizzle of magic to show for his efforts. He went wild then, attacking Greyback as mindlessly as he’d attacked the door.

Greyback’s humour-filled voice reached him through his sudden madness, making his body go absolutely still. “Yes boy, go on! I like it when they fight back. Blood means nothing without a struggle. I don’t like having my dinner delivered on a cowering platter.”

Draco remained frozen against the door, blood, snot, and tears mixing as they dripped down his pointed chin.

Greyback reached out and ran a hand almost gently through his hair before closing his fist and snapping Draco’s head back, ramming it into the door, intentionally or no, Draco didn’t know. Stars clouded his vision, the edges going grey, before he felt his body lifted and slammed against the wall, feet hanging over a foot off the floor.

Greyback ripped the placket off his own trousers before sliding a hand up between Draco’s thighs, causing him to clamp his legs together and cry out, “Please, no!”

A chuckle answered him. “You could have remained on the bed, and been comfortable, but now I’ve decided I like seeing you pinned there, like a little butterfly, wings fluttering in the moments before death. You’ll be my pretty little butterfly.”

Draco shuddered, struggling with all his might against the hand that held him so effortlessly to the door, but it was an immovable column of flesh. Another chuckle pushed hot, bloody breath into his face. He maintained the inward pressure on his thighs, the hand trapped between them trying to force its way up, but unable to move any further than mid-thigh.

A long sigh, then, “Open your legs or I’ll break them and do it myself.”

Draco shook his head wildly, leg muscles quivering at the strain.

“Do you think I can’t rip them off your damned body, boy? Because, let me tell you now, I am fully capable of doing so.”

Draco made a strangled scream in the back of his throat, head dropping back as far as it could go, body shaking with sobs as he slowly relaxed his thigh muscles. The hand gripped his thigh and moved it up, the angle awkward, but it was only long enough for Greyback to insinuate his own thigh between Draco’s.

Draco shook his head frantically, eyes dropping to take in the enormous size of Greyback’s cock. He scrambled against the wall, anything to get away from that thing. He’d be split in half, impaled on it until his body burst from the pressure, he was sure.

Greyback made a frustrated noise and quickly flipped Draco around, mashing his face into the rough wood of the door, scraping his nose and cheek raw. Draco heard the sound of him spitting just before two fingers came up between his buttocks, seeking his hole. When he found it, Greyback thrust both fingers in simultaneously, making Draco arch his back and scream at the burning pain of the forceful entry. If only two fingers felt this bad, how much worse would that inhumanly thick cock be?

Draco raised his hands and beat against the door, pleading for anyone on the other side to release him, to help him. He truly didn’t expect an answer, so when one came, he was chilled to the bone. The answer wasn’t even a word, just a cold, familiar laugh. His father’s laugh.

He reared back, tipping over into Greyback’s arms, a satisfied sound rumbling from the man who held him as his legs were spread wide. The sounds of more spittle and then a wet, thick, hot thing was pushing at Draco’s body. Lifting Draco up, then back, Greyback speared him, sucking in a harsh breath of pleasure as Draco screamed, voice cracking, dropping into silence as the pain nearly overwhelmed him.

He was allowed a few moments to adjust, unintentional on Greyback’s part most likely, but when he was hefted up again, the pain didn’t overwhelm him like it had before. In fact, to his astonishment, Greyback rubbed over something in him that sent sharp tingles of pleasure up his spine, and much to his dismay, he felt his cock begin to harden.

When there was less than an inch of Greyback’s cock up his arse, Greyback adjusted his hold on Draco until he was gripping Draco’s thighs, pulling them apart further still, spread-eagling him, so he could look down and see Draco’s reaction. He slammed Draco back down, tearing into him, forcing out another wail as the pain overwhelmed the shocks of pleasure that still managed to skitter through him.

Up again, the long, slow pull prolonging Greyback’s contact with that spot inside Draco. This time, his wail was a shocked sound as a small bit of come dribbled from the tip of his reddened cock. Draco fought down the humiliation, his rapist laughing darkly in his ear, whispering to him that perhaps he wasn’t so useless after all.

Draco shook his head, eyes wide with fear and self-loathing as the down stroke brought him to the edge of orgasm. His soul was shattered by the violence and pain of the rape, but his body was responding to it as eagerly as if Greyback were a favoured lover.

It only took two more times of being slid up and down for Draco to come, painting the door with thick, white globs of semen. Unable to hold back, he began sobbing quietly, his body squeezing around Greyback with every shuddering breath, pushing that man closer and closer to the edge. He moaned in a fresh wave of pain as Greyback’s cock thickened even more, a signal of his impending orgasm.

Greyback threw back his head and howled as he came, thrusting raggedly over and over into Draco, then pinning him down hard against his groin as his cock gave its final few pulses. Without any gentleness or tenderness whatsoever, he pulled Draco off him and set him to his feet, watching in a sated kind of humour as Draco’s legs gave out, his body crashing to the floor.

Squatting, he ran his hand lovingly over the bloody tracks his nails had made earlier in the evening. “I do enjoy induction night,” he murmured, drawing Draco’s crushed, pain-filled gaze.

As if Draco had asked the question, Greyback said, “The Dark Lord likes to know which of his followers are truly pure bloods and which are not. The only test for that is to be marked or bitten,” and here his gaze landed hungrily on Draco’s neck, “by a werewolf. Provided you survive, we’ll know by the full moon if you’re really as pure blooded as you think you are.”

He patted Draco’s thigh with a meaty palm, eyes drawn to the stream of pink-tinged come trailing down his thighs. “Pretty little butterfly. If you turn, I’ll take you for my playmate.”

Draco shivered and huddled further into himself, eyes wide as he began the first of many soul-deep prayers that there weren’t any skeletons in his family closet.

The End