Current mood:	busy
Entry tags:	author: lysa1, challenge: gvb, pairing: dm/bz, pairing: dm/jff, pairing: lm/bz, pairing: lm/dm, pairing: lm/jff, pairing: lm/nm, rating: nc-17, rating: pg-13, slash, type: fic

The Good vs Bad Challenge: Scream for Me (LM/JFF) and Fine (LM/NM)
The Bad...
Title: Scream for Me
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Violence, character death, non-con, psycho!Lucius, blood. Dark.
Pairings: Lucius/Justin Finch-Fletchley, Draco/Blaise, Justin/Draco, Lucius/Blaise.
Summary: Lucius never liked it when the other children played with his toys. Now Draco has taken his favourite toy and broken it. It has consequences for all involved. And some things never mend...
Notes: What you don't do for your flist... I hate Psycho!Lucius. But Elf wanted him... and what Elf wants, she gets. However, I am not going to write Lucius that way again, not ever! I would originally have posted a very long Mary Sue fic, but chose this instead, because I actually like the MS plot a lot and I cannot say how much I detest the Psycho!Lucius in this. This is OOC if there ever was OOC. Also, it is rather clear my command of the English language has improved a bit since. Gods, it stinks!



Scream for Me

Nobody could accuse the Malfoys for not treating their pets in a decent way. They had several, some young, others older. Of course they each had their favourite; Narcissa's was Oliver Wood; a cute looking, handsome young man. Draco's and Blaise's was Seamus. Lucius had never cared the least for him. But his son and his pureblood lover found Seamus amusing. He wasn't broken in yet, and Draco had much fun trying. He still tried to fight his destiny, as if Potter wasn't dead, as if the world wasn't set right.

And the world was right. Slowly - for not to draw too much attention to the genocide - Voldemort was killing off or offering the Muggleborns as servants and slaves to his faithful followers. The world was definitely a better place now, without Precious Potter and his mudblood friends. Oh yes. The world was so much better. Not that Lucius was, or had ever been, especially fond of Voldemort either, he liked to be the one in charge. But since he was Voldemort's second in command life had possibilities. Fringe benefits so to speak. A steady flow of money, slaves, pets and other gifts. Power.

Lucius had his favourite pet, too. A gift from Voldemort. Lucius was very fond of his recent pet.The best he'd had yet. It had been so compliant, so eager to please.

And that was why the scene that met him as he opened the gate to the Dungeon was very, very displeasing.

He had just stepped in on his son and his son's lover. It was a beautiful view; the two pure-blooded young wizards almost naked, candlelight caressing Blaise's dark, golden skin, underlining Draco's pale, luminescent fragility, both so very, very attractive.

And it would have been a beautiful sight if it hadn't been disturbed by a sickening smell, as if bodies were littered in the corners, left raw to bleed. It would have been beautiful if Draco's and Blaise's slender, athletic torsoes hadn't been smeared with blood. The smell of blood, of vomit and urine, of sex, filled the room with a nauseating stench.

Lucius' eyes narrowed dangerously. An expression of hate and possessiveness flickered over his face, distorting his fair features into a mask of disgust.

'What do you think you are doing, Draco?' he asked, voice arctic cold.

The two young men looked up, not quite believing the annoyed, displeased tone of voice.

'Would you mind telling me why my pet is here, my pet, in a state of health that is utterly unacceptable?' Lucius looked to the dungeon wall. Hanging in manacles, covered in his own blood, decorated with lashes and bruises and bleeding cuts, covered in blood as if a red blanket was wrapped around his body, hung Justin. Blood and other human fluids was pooling beneath him. He was unconscious, one arm looked as if it was broken, the manacles forcing him to use it to support him anyway.

'But he's just a pet, father. Nothing to get worked up over.'

Lucius tried to keep his temper. 'He might be a pet, Draco, but he is my pet. I have not given you permission to play with my toys, have I?

Draco looked away, knowing he'd screwed up. 'No...'

Lucius stepped closer to Draco, his grey eyes flashing dangerously almost like fluid silver. 'Why have you beaten him like this? This has noting to do with pleasure. Why, Draco?' He got a hold of Draco's thin, blood-smeared arm, fingers squeezing it hard, as a snake would strangle it's prey. 'Why?'

Draco yanked his arm out of his father's hard hand. Angrily Draco shouted at Lucius. 'Because he wouldn't scream for us, father. He wouldn't scream!'

- 0 -

It had all started months before. Prisoners, those who hadn't fled from or died in the battle was collected and sent to The Lord. The victors were gathered at Hogwarts, Voldemort's new residence. The Death Eaters had entertained themselves with the captives until The Dark Lord had decided to either give them away or get rid of them.

'Lucius, my friend,' The Dark Lord had said, ' would you like to have any of these... filth? You may pick the ones you like. Take first pick. Some of them might be useful as servants.' Lord Voldemort looked at his followers. 'If any of you want them you can take them. Kill the rest. The wizarding world has no use for such as those.' The Dark Lord looked at the prisoners with contempt.

Lucius bowed before his lord. 'Thank you, Master. I'd like a couple. As you know I happen to like Muggle sports.' He laughed.

That made Lord Voldemort smile. 'Yes, Lucius. You are quite happy to play with them, I've heard. Now, go on... take the ones you like.'

Lucius looked at the ragged, wounded, tired witches and wizards. Bereft of their wands, never to have one again, bereft of their hopes, of their future. They would be slaves until they were killed. They all knew that. They all looked crushed, desperate.

Lucius didn't want a desperate pet. He wanted a pet who would be strong enough to want to live. Else it would not be any fun playing with it, would it?

He chose randomly four, five of the best looking young men. He didn't think of it as if he was saving their lives. They'd probably all be dead in a year or so. His toys never lasted long. He was turning to face his Dark Lord once more when his eyes were caught by the sight of a tall, dark haired boy. Maybe seventeen or eighteen. Lucius shrugged. He needed no more pets. He only walked a couple of steps before he regretted. The calm look in the young man's eyes had been far too interesting. He turned back.

'You!' He waved at the curly haired boy. 'Here, boy!' he commanded. Up close the boy was good looking. He carried himself with a calm confidence, not arrogant, but almost. Probably bred by some aristocrat Muggle. Lucius shrugged. It didn't matter where he came from. 'Your name, boy?'

'Justin, sir. Justin Finch-Fletchley.'

Justin had turned out to be trainable.

That's what Lucius liked about his sweet pet. He had no illusions, he had - on the contrary to Gryffindors, who thought they could fight him, to Slytherins - yes, there had been Slytherin pets, too - who thought they could negotiate with him - or Ravenclaws, who thought they could outsmart him - no ideas of being braver, smarter or more cunning. Hufflepuffs were never subtle, but they were realistic, easygoing pets. So much better than the ones he had had from the other houses.

It seemed like nothing could push Justin from his rock-steady base. He had his feet firmly planted in the ground. No matter what Lucius did to him, he endured. He didn't beg, he didn't scream, he didn't whimper. He just waited until Lucius had finished, whether he was whipping the boy, cutting his fair skin with razor-sharp knives or branding him, fucking him, biting him or exposing him to more subtle branches of torture. There had been the time with the snake-pit. Justin didn't seem especially fond of snakes. That was the only time Lucius could remember his pet being scared out of his wits. He had been so beautiful in his silent fear.

Justin was marked as any other pet. Marked with the Malfoy Crest. A circle made by two green snakes intertwined, biting each other's tails. The pet hadn't been decidedly fond of the tattoo either. It seemed like he was a bit phobic about snakes. Ironic to have two of them firmly attached to one's butt as it was. The tattoo would never come off.

But he was pleased to see how well his pet was learning to obey. And so quickly, too. He hadn't had him for long before he was broken in. He willingly took Lucius' cock in his warm mouth. Willingly in his throat. He spread his cheeks when Lucius commanded him to, sometimes even wantonly before that. He came - also willingly - in silent spurts over his Master's hand. It happened more and more often that Lucius decided to reward his pet when it had been particularly pleasing.

One thing irritated Lucius. Justin's silence. He wanted to find out what caused it. One night when he had been very cruel to Justin without having the desired effect he felt compelled to ask him. He had his fingers entangled in Justin's messy hair. There were still crusts of blood in it.

'Why do you not scream, Justin? Do I not hurt you in a satisfactory way? Do I have to be harsher, more cruel?'

Justin didn't look at him. He was taught well. 'I am sorry, Master. I... I can't. Then I will have given up myself, given in forever. I...can't.' Sensing that he was risking to infuriate his Master he begged. 'Please, Master! Please! I will do anything. Please, do no not order me to scream!' He had thrown himself at Lucius' feet.

Lucius had been furious. A pet was not to ask things like that. If Lucius wanted his pet to scream, it screamed. If he wanted it to be silent, it was. 'Very well,' he'd said to Justin, 'then I order you never to scream. And trust me my pet, I will do things to you that would make you wish you could scream your heart out. But since you want it like this, I'll add one condition to it: scream once, and I'll perform an Avada Kedavra on you the forthcoming day!'

Justin had bowed his head in obedience and whispered, a quiet whisper, not for Lucius to hear, ' But if I scream even once, I will scream my heart out. Then hope is dead.'

Lucius had been particularly creative with his whips and knives that night.

- 0 -

And that was why Lucius was extremely angry with his ponce of a son and the haughty lover he'd chosen. They meddled with his carefully made work, his carefully made preparations. Meddled with his pet, his well-behaved, housebroken pet.

Lucius hissed at his son. The insolent brat had the audacity to talk back to him!

'I have ordered him not to scream for anyone,' you little twit. He is my pet, and you are not to experiment or order my pets to do anything! Do you understand, Draco? You are both going to pay for this,' Lucius snarled. 'You, Blaise, are going to substitute as my pet, and you, Draco, are to be Justin's until his wounds are healed. We do not treat our pets or hounds or servants like that if they are well behaved and submitting to our needs and wishes! You'll learn the hard way, since that specific snippet of information has slipped past you while you were taught how to manage a Manor House.'

'You can't make us do this,' Blaise protested. 'You can't-...'

A hard blow over his face stopped him from speaking. Blaise held a hand up to his cheek, his eyes wide. Lucius grabbed a blood-smeared collar, obviously thrown at the table after having been used at Justin, and pressed it into Blaise's other hand.

'I suggest you put this on now if you are not uncommonly fond of experiencing a Cruciatus Curse close up, son!' Lucius didn't look like he was in anyway to be contradicted, and Blaise managed to put the collar around his own neck, hands shaking either with anger or fright. Lucius didn't know which, and he didn't care.

Ignoring the two cretins he had allowed to live in his house he turned to his pet. Luckily he was unconscious when Lucius took him down. He had several broken ribs, a broken arm, he was almost bled white from the many, many cuts Draco and Blaise had made. He stank; wet with his own blood, vomit and urine. No, they hadn't been nice to him.

Lucius held his beloved pet carefully in his arms, not caring about the smell. He owed his faithful property to take care of him. He managed to get a hold on Draco's red, silken night-robe and wrapped it around Justin, trying to cover him up, ice cold as he was.

'Blaise, Draco! - My bedroom. Right away!' Lucius commanded.

'What are we to do there?' Blaise asked, arrogant as always.

'As I told you, Idiot, you are going to substitute as my pet. And Draco is going to help me restoring the remains of Justin to something recognizable as a pet. Now. Out!'

Lucius hastened through the Manor, not sure that Justin would live. He would not lose his pet this way. To his son and his deviant boyfriend!

When they reached his chambers he laid Justin down on the large bed. He was still breathing, but barely. Lucius quickly performed a series of complex healing spells, ending with a Scourgify.

Justin was breathing more evenly now, colour rising as a sweet sunset in his cheeks, his breath coming out in little puffs, as the lightest summer breeze. Lucius caressed his toy's hand, his eyes uncharacteristically soft. He turned to his son, eyes hardening. Flint. Cold.

'Kneel at the bed, Draco. You are to stay there until I - or Justin - commands you to do otherwise.'

Draco knew better than to argue.

'And you, Blaise. Go lie over the dressing table. NOW!' Lucius sneered, stopping Blaise's outburst before it even came out of his mouth. 'Either you do as I tell you or you'll leave my house immediately and never return. Is that understood?

'Yes, Sir,' Blaise stuttered, at last seeing the severity in the situation.

Lucius covered Justin, who was still unconscious, with several warm quilts, wrapping him carefully in them. He lay down, wrapping his arms around Justin, too, kissing his face, whispering little endearments to him.

Draco interrupted. 'Father, please. Can I... can I please leave. I would like not to be here while you...are intimate with Justin.'

'Oh, Draco. I am not going to be intimate with Justin for a while.' Lucius rose from the bed hesitantly. 'You have ruined that for me, haven't you. Almost destroyed my pet and my pleasure. No. I am not going to be intimate with Justin.' He went over to the table he had ordered Blaise to lie down over. 'But you are to watch while I break my newest pet in. I trust he's used to being buggered? I think I can take him a bit rough, don't you, without hurting him too much? Judging by the way he screams at night for you to fuck him harder I think I can.' Lucius slid his hand in Blaise's hair and grabbed it so hard that Blaise cried out.

'Sorry.' Lucius said, not the slightest bit sorry, 'Am I hurting you, Blaise? Get used to it, because I am not stopping before every blow and cut and bruise you have given my pet are delivered back.' He dug his nails into Blaise's chocolate skin, watching his face contract in pain. He was so beautiful, the regal face contorted, trying to keep himself from crying.

Lucius bent down to whisper in Blaise's ear. 'Will you scream for me, Blaise? Will you?' He reached around him and twisted a nipple so hard that Blaise almost couldn't breathe from the intense pain. His first deep intake of breath allowed him to do what Lucius asked: scream; a high pitched, sweet sound. So beautiful.

The screams continued as Lucius shoved himself inside Blaise. No warning, little lubrication. Maybe Blaise wasn't quite as used to be fucked hard as he thought he was. With a few harsh strokes he finished, feeling only a slight satisfaction by fucking his son's lover, but even more satisfied with the revenge. The shocked look in their eyes was so very pleasing. With an expression of utter indifference Lucius pushed Blaise away. This was nothing like his own, soft, obedient pet. 'Out!' he commanded his son-in-law. 'Clean yourself up and go to the pound. You are not sleeping up here before I allow you to.' Blaise looked horrified. He didn't say anything, but walked unevenly to the door, as if he was in pain, a mixture of blood and semen trickling down his thighs. Not Justin's blood, but his own. Not Draco's come, but Lucius'.

Draco, who was kneeling beside the large bed rose.

'Where do you think you are going?'

'But...'

'No, Draco. Justin hasn't given you permission to leave.'

'But...'

'You are to care for Justin better than any healer. I put full responsibility for his recovery on you, my son. If he's not back in good health, you are going to pay. You are to take care of every one of his needs. Go fetch potions and bandages. Make sure he'll get a long, hot bath afterwards, when you have treated him. I want him clean, without pain and tugged in my bed in clean sheets. You are to get him his meals, make sure he eats well, that he do not need anything! Understood, Draco?

A timid voice interrupted. 'Master! May I ask something?'

Lucius ignored his pet, even though he was pleased he had gained consciousness. He turned to Draco once more. 'Out, Draco. Get the potions for Justin.' He watched his son, hawk-eyed, as he left. Only then did he recognize Justin's question, nodding his accept.

'Did you mean what you said... that Draco is to be mine until I am healed?'

'Yes. But be careful my Pet. It could be harsh for you if I choose to reciprocate what you do to him when you are well!'

'Yes, Master. I understand. But... I can do to him what I want?'

'I told you, didn't I, Justin? You can.' Lucius answered in a slightly annoyed, tired tone. 'You are relentless!'

'I want Draco to make love to me.'

Lucius almost didn't believe his own ears. Of all the cheek...

'You want Draco to make love to you?'

'I am sorry, if I have upset you, Master. I'm very sorry. But if you are to do everything to me that I do to Draco...'

Lucius looked disbelievingly at the former Hufflepuff for seconds, silent, obviously a bit mystified. The he threw his head back and roared with laughter. 'Oh, Pet! You amuse me to no end. Make love to you...' He shook his head. 'Pet, Pet, Pet... a Malfoy makes love to his wife. Not to servants or animals or pets. Make love to you? ... Hilarious!'

He cupped Justin's cheek in a slender hand. 'But I will reward you for your clever thought. And afterwards I want you to fuck my son. He'll have to learn there are consequences. He'll learn not to spoil my property. And he'll have to learn that a Malfoy can be desecrated as well.'

He sat down on the bedside. 'Tell me Justin... do you love me?'

The tall Hufflepuff raised his brown eyes to meet flint grey ones, not used to look his owner in the eye. He knew it had consequences, too.

'I owe allegiance to you, Master.'

'That is not what I asked!'

'May I speak freely, Sir?'

'You may. But I'll still punish you if what you say is disrespectful or if it displeases me.'
The slight flicker of hope that shone in Justin's eyes went out.

'Sorry, Master. I would never offend you on purpose. It is just that I miss tenderness so much. It was never lacking when I gr-'

'That is enough, Justin! You are not here in my house as a lover or a guest. You are mine. Not a servant, not an employee. Mine. My property. To do with as I see fit. You should consider yourself lucky. My pets normally don't last this long.' He let his fingers flicker over Justin's nipple, pinching it lightly.

'I should probably punish you for your insolence but that will have to wait. You are not well enough to endure torture hard enough to give me any pleasure.' As if Lucius was struck by a sudden idea he moved closer to Justin. He slid a hand around Justin's neck, dragging him close in his usual rough, demanding, craving way.He paused for a second.

Justin was expecting the usual hard kisses, the violent bites, a tongue shoved in this mouth, down his throat, making him choke.

It never came.

Instead Lucius pressed soft lips over his, tugging lightly at his lower lip. A similar soft hand stroked his cheek, slowly, tenderly, carefully as if a large butterfly had just strayed into the room, accidentally brushing his skin.

A tongue hesitated, playing with Justin's lips. Surprised by the unexpected kindness he opened up, stroking Lucius' tongue with his own. The kiss deepened, never violent. Possessive, yes, never violent. More kisses, soft.

Justin fell asleep in Lucius' arms, kissed tired.
- 0 -

The next days Justin gradually got better. Draco took care of him in a sour, hesitating way, not complaining, but never letting Justin doubt that he hated this. On the fifth day, the first day where Justin felt like a human being again, Lucius came in, a determined look in his handsome face.

'Well, Draco. It is time for your lesson,' he said, waving Draco nearer. 'Take off your clothes.'

'No. Why should I?'

'I'll tolerate no disobedience in this, Draco. You'll better do it voluntarily. If I am to help you, you will find it most regrettable, I'm sure.'

Draco stripped, blushing furiously.

'Now lie down here.' Lucius pointed at the selfsame table where he had raped Blaise Zabini.

'No, Father, please... ' Draco clearly expected the same treatment.

'Oh, grow up, Draco. I am not going to touch you. Now, your upper body over the table.' Lucius looked at the bed, at Justin. 'Pet, would you mind assisting me?'

He grabbed Draco's arms and pinned them to the table. 'I want you to fuck my son.'

Draco whimpered and cried. 'Please, father, don't do this to me... not while you watch. Please leave us, at least leave. Please! Please!' His cheeks were wet from tears. No, Draco wasn't quite as satisfied as he could have been.

Lucius ignored his son. It was if he didn't exist. He looked over Draco's slender torso to Justin, who stood, trembling, not really wanting to do this. 'Oil yourself up, Justin. And Draco is not to be lubricated or stretched first. I want him to feel exactly how you felt when he almost ruined your arse for me for good. It would have been a pity. You have such a fuckable arse, my lovely Pet. Now let us see if my son can take it up his delicious arse as a man...'

As it was, he couldn't.

- 0 -

That night Lucius came to him for the first time in five days. He was still careful not to hurt his pet, but there was no doubt he wanted to. Justin could feel the rage, the insanity, so cleverly held back for almost a week. It moved inside his Master as if a large predator had seated itself in and underneath Lucius' fair skin. Moved around carefully, only tentatively trying to get out. It would only be a matter of hours before the omnivorous, sickening devil was back inside its angelic hide.

Justin fell back into Lucius' embrace, drowning in his kisses.

His Master's arms were around him, his Master was buried inside him, his Master was over him. Filling him as all hope left him. It was so safe and satisfying, giving in to the Master. Teeth tearing in his flesh, nails in his skin. The exquisite pain. His Masters soft whisper as he moved inside him, taking him, possessing him.

'Will you scream for me, Pet? Will you scream?'



That night Justin's screams echoed through the Manor. The Master's toys never lasted long.






The Good...
Title: Fine.
Characters: Narcissa/Lucius
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: A bit of blood and angst.
Summary: Narcissa waits for Lucius to come home from a raid.
Notes: buttfacemakani makes wonderful Malfoy-art. But this was truly heartbreaking, and bunnied me into writing this short ficlet. I regard this my best fic, since I still, two years after I wrote it, like it a lot. I like the flow of it, I like the Death Eater wife's POV, and I like the implications.




Fine.


Tick-tock goes the clock.

Tick-tock.


Minutes.

The hands moves slowly through the hours, slowly through the night. The chair is a haven in the darkness, an island of warm softness and faint light.
The cradle has stilled, not moving. The child sleeps, his eyes closed, his soft skin carries characteristics already now resembling his father's exquisite features.


Tick-tock goes the clock.


Seconds.

Time moves through the night as unseen ghosts.

Outside a slight blush crawls over the rim of darkness, crawls over the horizon giving a vague promise of sun and day and life.


Tick-tock goes the clock


Hours.

She is pacing now, has left the chair. She cannot sleep. She cannot rest. She cannot breathe.
In the cradle the tiny child stirs as if he feels the sun moving, disturbing his sleep. He sighs, opens his grey eyes, smiles in his almost-sleep, turns and continues to dream. His little smile reminds her so much of what she may have lost this night.





Tick-tock goes the clock.


Eternity.

Every beat she forces her anxious heart to take, every breath she makes, counts the time that has passed since he left, counts the time since he should have been back. Back in her arms, safe.


Tick-tock goes the clock and leaves her without hope.


Outside the morning's first fox sneaks around for rabbit or mouse hid in the dim grey darkness. A bird flutters over the sky, black against the still blackened night, just slightly touched by a promise of day.


Tick-tock goes the clock and a tear lurks in the corner of her eye.


She knew what he was, she knew! But the pain is unbearable. There is no way she can deny it: she is in love with him and the separation, the desperation she feels is incruciating, so sickening she would rather have been out there with him, facing the horrors he would have to face.


Tick-tock goes the clock and, almost, only almost, drowns out the sound of the owl pecking at the window glass, delivering this morning's Daily Prophet.


Tick-tock goes the clock, and as she opens the paper everything stops.


DEATH EATER ATTACK!
Dozens dead on both sides.

Everything stops and everything is lost. Her world becomes a narrow line of pain and loneliness, a world of silence and broken dreams.

Slowly her hand caresses their son. His beautiful face, her beautiful son, might be all she has left to remind her of her husband.

Slowly, encased in silence, she gathers everything she has; will-power, strength, courage. She gathers everything she has so that no one will see her pain when they come to tell her he is dead.


Tick-tock goes the clock and counts the time until her world ends.


Tick-tock goes the clock, the only sound she hears until she is disturbed by the sound of a creaking door.


Tick-tock goes the clock and she braces herself before the blow.



At first she doesn't understand. She sees, but doesn't understand. The blond hair tucked under the hood. A trickle of blood, maybe his own, a faint memory of pain, coagulated. His grey eyes are tired, weary, but his love for her still shines through.
Then she is in his arms, he holds her so tight, trembling. His robe smells of fire, of blood, of death. It doesn't matter. What matters is that she is able to cling to him, to whisper his name again and again while he kisses her. On the cheek. On the lips.

'Lucius?', she whispers.

'I'm fine, Narcissa,' he says as he cradles her in his strong embrace. 'I'm fine.'


Tick-tock goes the clock.


Fine.


Tick-tock.


Until next time.