FIC: 'And They Danced by the Light of the Moon' for stonegrad Recipient:stonegrad Author:eeyore9990 Title: And They Danced by the Light of the Moon Rating: Hard R? Pairings: Rabastan/Rodolphus Word Count: ~3150 Warnings: Bloodplay, knifeplay, dub-con, voyeurism, exhibitionism Summary: Straying from the Dark Lord's path can carry serious consequences. Author's Notes: Stonegrad, I really hope this is what you were looking for. I enjoyed your request as it allowed me the freedom to play and revel in the darkness. I must give huge thanks to my beta (to be named later) for keeping me on track and not letting me include wild flights of incoherent fancy.
Torches flared along the walls. For all their number, for all their heat and blazing light, they did little to penetrate the damp darkness of the room. The stone walls absorbed their luminescence and cast shadows over the rare splashes of colour. What it did catch was the sharp point of a knife being flipped idly between nimble fingers, the fine edge of an axe as a whetstone was lovingly applied.
The shadows parted for a moment to show a pale hand waving lazily through the air—or perhaps they parted for that pale hand. Every pair of eyes in the room locked on the figure, every conversation that had caused a general hum of sound halted in a moment, leaving a heavy, waiting silence.
"I look around me and see the faces of my faithful followers, my loyal Death Eaters, and I wonder… why is it that the very precepts of our beliefs are so difficult? Lucius."
One dark-robed figure among the many crowding the hall stepped forward, pushing the hood of his robe back to show his masked face.
"Show yourself to your brethren. Be a shining example."
Lucius stood straighter and raised a hand to his face, pulling off his mask. He inclined his head to more easily look down the length of his aristocratic nose at the assembly.
"Lucius has married well; a daughter of the House of Black. Already she has borne him a son. Which of the rest of you can say the same? Crabbe. Goyle. Step forward and receive my blessing. Nott."
A small gathering stood in the midst of the many, pride flowing from them.
"Lestrange. Tsk. No child yet, Rodolphus?"
A choked sob split the tension building in the room.
"Bellatrix, my pet. You need have no fear of my wrath. The Black family is well-known for its ability to produce sons fine and loyal… Regulus!"
In a heartbeat, the previously seated figure of the Dark Lord was behind one of the gathered throng, furious face pressed nearly against the side of a hood. "Regulus Black. The pure, loyal, upright son of the House of Black. So different from the blood traitor, Sirius—"
The Dark Lord released a hiss of cold laughter as Regulus stiffened at the mention of his brother.
"What ails you, child? You have nothing to fear from me, your lord. Why I look forward to the day you present your new wife to me." Hard, cold eyes took in the very stiffness of Regulus' posture, the way his eyes widened for a moment before his heavy lids fell to half-mast. "You will present me with a pureblood wife soon, will you not?" The silky hiss skated through the room, dropping like acid onto the less faithful. "After all, it is the only way to ensure pureblood children."
"Rabastan Lestrange! Attend me now."
Regulus' robes swayed as he quickly stopped himself from reaching out to grab the Dark Lord. His whispered, "Dear God," did not escape the confines of his hood. His grey eyes—a hallmark of the Black family—gazed on the unfolding scene with a fear not exhibited by any of the remainder of the gathering.
In the centre of the loose circle of followers, one stepped forward, robes a plain black; the material of obvious quality.
Several moments of tense silence followed while the Dark Lord circled his prey. Rabastan remained perfectly still, not even flinching when the Dark Lord's hand shot forward, ripping his mask away. The flickering light from the torches touched briefly upon Rabastan's high, sharp cheekbones, the aristocratic ridge of his nose and the full curve of his lips before sliding away to allow the shadows to once again fill his hood.
"I have been patient with you, Rabastan, and yet you continue to flaunt your deviance at every turn."
"You dare interrupt me? Crucio!"
Rabastan fell to the ground, shrieking as excruciating pain poured through his body.
Raising his voice to carry over the noises Rabastan was making, the Dark Lord continued. "Look, my children. Look upon the face of the disobedient; of the unnatural. I have tried, my children, to impress upon you the way forward. To illuminate a future in which our values are embraced and upheld. Instead, I have such as this," with a wave of his wand, the curse was lifted, "flaunting morality by indulging in carnal relations with men. Expending his seed into the bodies of those without wombs. What shall we do, my children? How shall we impress upon young Rabastan… and those who would encourage him in his disgusting pursuits… the true way?"
Rodolphus stepped forward, one hand held out palm upturned in a pleading gesture. "My lord. Rabastan is, indeed, young. He has been led astray by those who teach against the natural order. Those who conspire to allow Mudbloods admittance to our world. Those who uphold immorality and fleshly sins as just and right."
"You speak on his behalf, Rodolphus?"
"He is my brother, my Lord. His deviances must be driven from him; I must take my responsibility as his brother. As your loyal servant." Rodolphus lowered his head, his shame clear to those who watched.
"You would oversee his punishment?"
"With humble pleasure, my Lord."
"No matter what form the punishment should take?"
"I would never question you."
The Dark Lord's mouth twitched at one corner before he raised his hand and laid it on Rodolphus' shoulder; a benediction. "To drive the urge from him, he will need to be used in the way that he has used others. You understand this, the implications?"
Rodolphus blinked rapidly, his head rising to lock gazes with his brother, who had gone pale from lingering pain and fresh fear. "I… I understand, my Lord. I… I don't know if I can—"
"I would never think to submit you to the perversion of actually craving male flesh. You will be supplied with a potion, of course."
Rodolphus' shoulders sagged and he went to his knees before the Dark Lord, hands reaching forward shakily to stroke his robes. "Thank you, my Lord. Your generosity is stunning."
The Dark Lord smoothed a hand over Rodolphus' head before turning and walking to Bellatrix, who was glaring at Rabastan with such hate that the air fairly crackled with it. "My dear. I would not think to subject you to such a stomach-turning display. We shall adjourn until Rabastan's punishment is complete."
The Dark Lord turned and glanced around the gathered throng. Fenrir paced in the corner, eyes flickering occasionally to the darkened window. A small, malicious smile curved the Dark Lord's lips before he tilted his head and said, "Greyback, you will remain with the brothers… in chains. Should the punishment not be complete before the moon rises full, you may do with them what you wish."
A quickly spoken incantation found Fenrir wrapped in chains of plain black metal. Not silver. A thrill of fear slid through the gathered Death Eaters as the clouds outside the large windows thinned for a moment, permitting weak moonlight to pierce the shadows.
"And… let's see. We will need a guard. One who is eager to prove his loyalty to me. Who will watch and ensure that Rabastan is properly punished for his transgressions." A malicious smile pulled the Dark Lord's lips into the only true expression he'd shown that night. "Regulus. You may stand guard. Do be certain to watch them… carefully. As I will be watching you."
Not waiting for an answer, the Dark Lord led Bellatrix from the hall, the remaining Death Eaters following close on his heels until only four remained in the room. Fenrir, testing his chains in the corner even as raspy chuckles escaped his throat; Regulus who had yet to move even the slightest bit; Rabastan, whose knife was held clenched tight—but impotent—in his fist; and Rodolphus, who was clutching a potion vial a young, dark-haired Death Eater had given him.
Rabastan ran to the door, testing the charms that locked them in. He still had his wand, so perhaps he could—
Landing in a heap on the stone floor ten feet from the door was sufficient warning not to try to use standard unlocking spells.
Putting his hands to his head, he sat up, trying desperately not to look at Regulus.
"Rabastan, you fool." Rodolphus was the first to speak. "How could you go against our Lord in such a way?"
Rabastan drew his knees up, leaning forward over them. "I can't… I can't help it, Roddy. It's—"
"Don't. Don't make excuses. You've failed our Lord, you've failed our family. Now you'll receive your punishment for both. God, if I can stomach it."
Rabastan lowered his head, his hands bunching into fists as he hid his anger-filled eyes from his brother. "Take your potion. Take your potion and then… Just do it. I don't want to die tonight."
All three men looked toward the corner where Fenrir was constantly testing his chains, his yellowing teeth gleaming dully in the darkness. He was the long-toothed elephant in the room, one that was eager and willing to trample them all.
"Hurry," Regulus said, his voice gruff with an unnamed emotion. His eyes dropped down to the back of Rabastan's head so that when Rabastan finally looked up, their eyes locked. "I've seen this before. The lock is set to blood or… If he wants you to come, that will be what you'll need to escape. It will need to be yours."
A jerking motion of Regulus' head made Rodolphus look at him oddly, but the potion he'd just consumed made advanced thought nearly impossible. Arousal was coursing through him, and it didn't matter to his body where he expended his bottle-bought passion.
"Rabastan, do you have your knife?" he asked, his breathing coming in fast, shallow pants as his cock swelled.
"Give it to me."
Rabastan pushed himself from the floor before advancing on his brother, his knife held innocuously across the flat of his palm. "Do you want this, Roddy? Do you want my knife?"
"Shut up, Regulus. Stay out of this. It has nothing to do with you."
Rodolphus twitched slightly, his eyes zeroing in on the knife's blade and the way the shadows seemed to slide off the bright, shining edge of it. "Yes, Regulus, stay out of this."
Rabastan's hand twisted suddenly, the knife sliding down into his grasp as he edged closer to his brother. He raised the knife between them, his eyes even with Rodolphus' as he waved the silver blade back and forth. "My knife. Why do you want it, brother? Thinking to drain my blood to free us from this… situation?"
Rodolphus grunted, his head shaking slowly, as if he couldn't recall exactly how to work the muscles any longer. "No. Want… ah, don't know. Want to fuck."
Rabastan stepped lightly to the side, placing one foot over the other as he quietly circled his brother. Reaching out his hand, he slid the razor-sharp edge of his knife's blade against his brother's robes, leaving ribbons in his wake. "Want to fuck? Don't you worry that you're disobeying our Lord?" He didn't worry that his tone was too snide, though the sharply indrawn breath from Regulus made him smirk.
"My dagger, Rodolphus, is not for the faint of heart. My dagger is quick and deadly. It brings a pain so exquisite you can only feel pleasure as it stabs into you. Do you want my dagger?"
"You…" Rodolphus licked his upper lip and rolled his head on his shoulders, one hand sliding down to smooth over the bulge at the front of his trousers. "You're not talking about your knife, are you?"
Rabastan drew the tip of his knife over the back of Rodolphus' hand and whispered, "No."
Rodolphus hissed, his palm jerking against his cock as the knife drew a line of fire across his skin. Beads of blood welled from the shallow cut before Rabastan dropped to his knees and licked them off.
"Fuck!" Rodolphus shouted, confusion warring with the lust that drew his features tight and caused a flush to rise along his sharp cheekbones. "Fuck, let's just… do this. Do this and leave and never talk about it again."
Rabastan remained on the floor on his knees, eyes blazing darkly up at his brother before transferring to the pale face of Regulus. "Yes. You must stand there and watch as my brother fucks me, correct? You must bear witness to my punishment."
Regulus shook his head, a choking sound all he could summon in response. "Rabastan—"
"Watch, Regulus. Be silent and watch."
Rabastan raised his knife, sliding it slowly and lovingly down the front of his robes, the cloth splitting with a whisper of sound. The thick black material fell away from his white flesh, showing him strong and naked beneath, and pooled at his knees. The darkness of the stones beneath him blended with the tatters of his robes, giving him the impression of rising from the very foundations of the building itself.
Torchlight flickered across his skin, drawing all eyes in the room to his unashamed nudity, to the proof of his impenitent arousal. A soft, whuffling half-howl emitted from Fenrir as he lunged against his chains.
Rabastan peered through the gloom toward the monster at whose hands he might die and simply stared.
Rodolphus fell forward onto his own knees, facing his brother, bringing his hands up to cup the edge of Rabastan's strong jaw. "Brother," he whispered, his voice soft with regret. "You must be punished. You must be made to see the error of your ways, the wrongness of your actions. Your lusts are sinful, are a direct violation of our Lord."
"I know why I am being punished, Roddy. Your explanations are tedious and time-consuming. The moon rises. You are as trapped here as I am. I have no wish to supply a meaty supper for our friend there."
Rodolphus, even riding the tide of false arousal, spared a moment to glance behind him at Fenrir, fear clouding his gaze for a moment.
"How do we…?"
"I kneel, you bugger me. That seems to be the time-honoured method, at least."
Regulus drew his hood up, the material trembling in his hands as the shadows overtook his face.
"You must watch, Regulus."
"I am watching."
"Be silent, brother, and do your duty to our Lord." In a smooth movement that managed to elude the shadows for a moment, Rabastan fell forward onto his hands, his body firm and ready for the coming punishment. "Flay me, brother. Punish me."
Rodolphus swallowed so heavily that the sound seemed to echo back. Looking up, he glanced at Regulus for a moment, as if to ask permission, but no answering nod came from the dark confines of the hood.
Smoothing one hand down his brother's spine, Rodolphus used the other to raise the tattered ribbons of his own robes. "I'm sorry," he whispered, pressing forward.
A hiss resounded through the room, answered by Regulus who stepped forward, his hands clenching in his robes. "Dear God, man, lube! How are you supposed to bring him to orgasm if you're tearing into him like that?"
Rodolphus pulled back quickly, garnering a choked sound from Rabastan, and said, "Sorry, sorry. What do I do?!"
"Just," Rabastan swallowed harshly, his breathing ragged, "lubrication spell. And go slowly. Slowly."
Rodolphus cast the necessary spell before going perfectly still, the lightening outside the window drawing his horrified gaze. "The clouds are parting," he whispered.
"Fuck," Rabastan spat, turning his head to the same scene. "Hurry, Rodolphus. Just… hurry. Regulus?"
"Here," Regulus said, his voice soft, the tones ringing of sorrow. "I am here." He stepped forward and sank to the ground, sitting directly in front of Rabastan.
"The knife. Take it. Use it."
Regulus reached forward, his hand hovering in the air for a long moment before he plucked the knife off the floor where Rabastan had dropped it. "Take joy in the moment," he whispered, raising the knife and allowing Rabastan to lick it slowly and lovingly before turning it on himself.
With a shaking hand, he pushed back the sleeve of his robe and bared his Dark Mark to the air. The tip of the knife kissed the line of ink, tracing over it, slowly penetrating the marked flesh.
"Yesss," Rabastan hissed, tossing his head and leaning back, his eyes locked on the knife's trajectory. "Deeper. Let me taste. Let me… ah!" His back arched and he turned to snarl, "Faster! I'm prepared now."
Rodolphus, his eyes showing nothing but the dull sheen of arousal, merely grunted and slammed his hips forward, drawing a ragged curse from his brother.
Regulus sighed, his eyes sliding closed as he pressed the tip of the knife deeper into his skin, searching out and finding the freely flowing blood beneath the surface. Finishing a circuit of his Mark, he held his arm outstretched, allowing Rabastan to lave the wounds with his tongue before the magic imbued into the tattoo caused the skin to re-knit.
Blood and sex rose in the air; Fenrir fought against his chains, his eyes feral as his human lips pulled back away from sharp teeth.
Rodolphus lost his rhythm for a moment before redoubling his speed, thrusting hard and fast, racing to bring Rabastan to completion. "The moon," he moaned softly, eyes rolling as pleasure and fear fought a war for dominance.
Rabastan closed his eyes, one hand coming off the floor to wrap around himself, the pumping, jerking motions of Rodolphus facilitating his own movements. Rolling his cheek against Regulus' forearm, he inhaled the coppery scent of blood and allowed his eyes to part to mere slits.
The way Fenrir fought his bonds was truly frightening; the jealousy and want in Rabastan's gaze would have been more so to anyone who saw it. His movements turned languid then, time standing still as he transferred his gaze between Fenrir and the still-cloaked moon outside the window.
"Come for me, Rabastan," he heard vaguely and wondered for a moment who had spoken. "Come for us."
With a sigh, he spilled across his hand, the pearlescent liquid thick on his skin as his brother fell across his back, shuddering through his own release.
Languidly they parted, their post-coital state lending awkwardness to their movements as they found and spelled their clothing whole again. Slipping the robes on they crossed to the door.
Only Fenrir noticed how Rabastan hesitated before reaching toward the door.
The shadows parted as Rabastan's come-covered hand swiped over the handle, the full moon pouring pale light into the room.