Fic: Lucius's Gallery - 10 Portraits - Lucius/various, R
Title: Lucius’s Gallery – 10 Portraits
Author: elfflame
Characters: Lucius and half the Wizards in the Wizarding world?
Rating: Rish? Leaning a bit towards NC-17 in spots
Warnings: incest, chan, dub con, coercion, prostitution
Kinks chosen: Erotic Art
Word Count: 1974
Summary: Lucius has a gallery
Author's notes: This one was very fun. I might have to take requests for other “Portraits” at some point. I did consider putting some girls in here, but really, the only Witch I like Lucius with, aside from his wife (who was out for a very specific reason), is Tonks. Which would have left things very unbalanced. I hope you all like! Thank you as always to my Beta crew—K, Ceria, and Kit—whom I adore.

There is a secret hall in Malfoy Manor. One only Lucius knows how to access. He keeps his treasures there. Portraits he wants no one else to see, kept hidden even from each other by curtains that allow the subjects privacy when he is not visiting them. Portraits he uses to remember his conquests. A way to keep memories of those times fresh in his mind.

Training

Lucius had heard of the Princes long before he knew of Severus’s connection to the family. When he’d learned of the relationship, he’d known he would have to take the scrawny, scowling boy under his wing.

It had been more than worth the effort. The scowls and glares had never truly faded, but he had discovered that the boy’s tongue was good for a great deal more than back-talking or verbally lashing flesh from bone. Several pleasant weekends were spent showing the boy the pleasures of the flesh, training him to be more open, to bow and kneel and scrape.

And he had made a perfect servant for their master. Until their master had destroyed the one thing Severus had truly wanted: Lily Potter.

Severus had barely visited after that. Lucius had had the portrait painted shortly after proving his own innocence to the Wizengamot. Now, after the true end of the war, it is the only bit of Severus that he has left.


Decadence

The Lestrange brothers always fascinated Lucius in an academic way. They were closer than almost any other siblings he had known. Despite the fact that six years separated the two of them.

Lucius had always competed with Rodolphus for everything in school. So he hadn’t been able to resist when the opportunity to fuck Rabastan arose. Of course, Rodolphus wouldn’t let him without being there himself. Lucius had been unsurprised when Rodolphus had taken his brother in his arms, kissing and holding him close even as Lucius thrust into the younger Lestrange.

After, Rodolphus had done more, and Lucius had to admit—the two brothers made quite the beautiful sight as they moved together.

He rarely sees the two in the portrait not touching. Quite often, when he comes to visit them, they are doing a great deal more.


Bravado

Family politics is a daily part of any Slytherin’s life. Any pureblood’s, for that matter. So when a sixteen-year-old boy came to Lucius late one night in mid September, he was hardly surprised. Despite the fact that Sirius Black had always done his best to avoid Lucius at any family gathering, as well as the one year they’d spent at school together.

His words were even less surprising, knowing how protective Sirius was of his younger brother.

“You can do whatever you want to me. Just promise me you’ll keep him out of it.”

Perhaps the boy didn’t really understand how these things worked? He was a Gryffindor, after all.

Lucius had gladly partaken, fucking the boy all night, thrusting into his mouth and arse and coating him with his come, then sending him back to school without allowing him time to clean himself.

It didn’t stop him from inviting Regulus to his first meeting with their Lord only six months later, though. He thinks the portrait must know, for it glares at him whenever he visits it.


Sacrifice

Regulus had always been surprisingly sweet. For a Slytherin, at least. And certainly for his family.

He was unsurprised when the boy came to him asking what he knew about horcruxes. Their Lord had chosen certain families for the honour. But only Lucius knew that the honour was more than a singular one.

Convincing Regulus to exchange one night together for the knowledge he wanted had been simple. He’d been astonished at the passions he’d been able to pull from him, the boy’s pale body writhing under him as he thrust into him, scoring his skin with his nails, his lips swollen from kisses.

It had almost been a shame, telling Regulus what he wanted to know, knowing it would likely lead the boy to his death.

Still, it was a good test of their Lord’s power. If the boy returned, Lucius would know that He was vulnerable. If he did not, Lucius would wait and watch, and continue to serve…until the time was right.

Lucius had the portrait painted six months after Regulus’s death. Truly a tragic loss. Such a waste.


Repayment

Lucius had never met Remus Lupin before that day. He’d heard enough about him, though. He and the other Marauders had been the only thing, aside from Potions and Lily Evans, that Severus had talked about. And now, Remus was the only free Marauder left. Even Lily was gone. All that remained of the group who had tormented Severus were a tiny boy barely more than an infant, a madman locked in Azkaban, and this scrawny, bedraggled half-blood.

Even knowing he shouldn’t want to, he couldn’t resist. Especially when he jingled the bag of coins and watched as the man’s sour expression turned for a second to one of longing, then to loathing.

“I hate you.”

“Yes, but you’ll still let me do as I wish, won’t you?”

Lupin had scowled, but in the end, he’d nodded.

It had been too delicious. Fucking the halfbreed up against the dingy brick wall, then forcing him down on all fours to clean him up after.

He’d gone back to visit him a number of times, though none had been quite so delightful as that first time. And by the fifth time, he’d gotten rather bored of the man’s closed expression. He hadn’t come back after that.

The portrait isn’t of that lost, already world-weary Lupin, but a younger one. One that glowers at him when he approaches it, and looks appalled if he tries anything more. It’s almost as amusing as that first time.


Unbroken

Though Lucius has loathed Arthur Weasley longer than he can remember, when he runs into the man’s firstborn son on a trek to Egypt, he cannot deny that Bill is beautiful. In a plebeian way, of course. At least with this one, the man hadn’t used up what little essence he had already on previous children. And it showed. In the boy’s looks, and in his confident stride. What Lucius wouldn’t give to knock that ego down a few pegs.

He made do with fucking the boy into his hotel bed until he screamed, then left him, scattering a few Muggle bills on the bed in “repayment” while he slept.

The boy had actually had the gall to send them back to him. Along with a hair ribbon he’d left behind on accident.

Lucius had the portrait started the next day.


Exchange

They arrived at the Manor the spring of Miles’s final year at Hogwarts, and Lucius is unable to resist the pair of them.

He has seen them play, Adrian and Miles. He is distantly related to Miles, though his family has fallen on hard times the last few generations. Adrian is far more closely related. Enough to have visited the Manor many times in his youth, even before attending Hogwarts.

The deal is struck. He will be their representative to possible teams, and they will allow him one night—with the both of them. It seems the two have already decided on that part of their destiny.

The last time Lucius had lovers this young, he had been almost as young himself. It is different, to be with someone so much younger than he. Let alone two. The boys take turns teasing and pleasing him, and he wonders which of them had thought up this scheme. But then there is a mouth around him, and lips on his own, and the thought disappears.

When he took Draco to see them play, finally, well after the final battle, he remembered that day. He cannot help thinking it was worth it.

He begins to heal from the war the day he has their mutual portrait started.


Haunted

Back from Azkaban Draco’s final year at Hogwarts, a prisoner in his own home, he had no longer felt like himself.

Despite everything, he had wanted to do whatever he could to make Draco’s final year comfortable, so when he had asked if he could bring home his friend Blaise during the winter break, Lucius was quick to agree. So long as the young man knew the dangers. Draco had assured him that Blaise was more than aware of them, and so he had come home with Draco.

The first few days, the two had spent a good deal of time alone in Draco’s room. Lucius hadn’t considered what they might be doing until the young man appeared at his door late one evening, dressed only in a thin silk robe he had obviously borrowed from Draco.

Blaise wasn’t bashful in the least. When Lucius had tried to turn him away, he had refused. And once he had let the boy in, it was like being caught in a summer storm.

After Azkaban, he had wondered if he would even be able to think positive emotions again. But that night, with Blaise touching him, kissing him, stroking him, riding him…he remembered every glorious detail.

They had fucked all night, and several times during that winter break. Then Blaise and Draco had returned to school, and Lucius had never seen him again. But he made certain to get the portrait made as soon as he could. He’d wanted to remember this reawakening.


Obliviate

One of the two treasures of Lucius’s gallery glares at him through bright green eyes and thick horn-rimmed glasses. The real Harry doesn’t remember their time together. But Lucius does.

It had been a dangerous chance he had taken, inviting the boy to his home to thank him for his help following the war, but he had. Still, he couldn’t resist the chance to take what so many had always wanted. And it had been well worth it. The boy had even admitted to wanting him by the end.

He could still remember the boy’s face, pinked with lust, his eyes sparkling with tears as he had taken him. He also remembered the slender body arching under his as he’d fucked him, and the comfortable quiet after, when the boy had curled around him like a child curls around a once-missing teddy bear. Too, he remembered how relaxed the boy had been in his sleep, and Harry’s soft sigh as Lucius had brushed his lips over the boy’s ear before pulling back and whispering the word Obliviate.

Lucius still smirked when he passed Potter in the halls at the Ministry. Sometimes, he even considered a repeat performance.


Desire

The final portrait in the gallery isn’t someone Lucius has had. He has taken many in his time, but there is only one he could never bring himself to use that way. When he visits it, he sometimes imagines the subject coming to him. For that is the only time he can imagine taking his son.

His beautiful, pale, slender boy whom he knows believes that Lucius feels him an inadequate heir. It is untrue. But better Draco believe that, than be disgusted by the truth of his sire’s lust.

So instead, he tells all his secret fantasies and wishes to this imitation of his son. This portrait who smiles at him at such revelations, and calls him an “old fool,” but then placates him by doing a strip tease, and telling him how much he wishes that he were Lucius’s Draco. Tells him he wishes Lucius would fuck him until he screamed.

Lucius finds himself wishing the same. It is always so hard to face his family the mornings after he has visited Draco’s portrait. And some mornings, he even considers never visiting it again.

But he always does.