Who: Lucius Malfoy and Otto Bagman When: Monday, December 13, 2 am. Where: The Infirmary, a warehouse, a torture chamber What: Lucius takes Otto through his paces. Rating: R for torture, homoeroticism, and heavily adult themes. Also, nazis.
Lucius Malfoy knew very little about muggles, and probably equally as much about Otto Bagman. But the boy was German, anyone could tell that. Ares was German. Lucius knew that the Notts had entertained a party during the thirties and forties, the National Socialists. He had read a book on them over the weekend, found it in the library and buried it amongst his books for a Charms essay. They were very impressive for muggles from what he could tell. Almost bogeymen.
So it would follow that the German boy would be suitably terrified by their shadows. And Lucius, for all his malice, did aim to please his audience.
The blonde boy, practically the epitome of an Aryan youth, adjusted the collar on his black uniform and gave a glance to the red flag on the wall. His hand moved to the victrola newly appeared on the table beside him, starting the music--Mozart's Requiem--a quite recent favorite.. Perhaps he did not need to move his hand, but in the absence of wands, it was thrilling to have such absolute control over the environment. The music would be pervasive, even outside of his tableau. It would hopefully be the first announcement of his connection with the boy who had just fallen asleep.
He had taken pains to disguise his appearance. His jawline was still square-set, but his bearing official and his skin sallow. He appeared older and muscled. One eye was missing, hidden by a jagged scar down his cheek. He smiled sickly in the mirror and held up his hand, watching the leather whip appear curled in his grasp. The child had been silenced, but they were right.
What challenge was there in silencing a child? Lucius would silence a man.
In a moment, he was walking down the hall, heels clicking sharply down the stone halls that were not Hogwarts. The boy was in the infirmary, and Lucius knew this. Were he not, he was now. But the infirmary was not Hogwarts either. It was older, dirtier, decidedly different, the sort of tent soldiers were brought to after a battlefield. Minimally appointed and somber.
But the clicking of his heels drove him forward until the door creaked open. The man was there, collapsed over a bed, holding the child's hand when Lucius, appearing behind him clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. He spoke in a crisp, heartless German. The command in his voice should be more than adequate to draw the boy along. But if he had to, Lucius was entirely in control.