A/N: Another dark fic by me. I don't know what came over me. I wanted to destroy something pretty and here is the result, which I think is quite pretty in a disturbing sense. Seems like I defeated the purpose, huh?
This is written through Lucius Malfoy's eyes/mind. It's not pleasant, there's one rather graphic violent image. Oh, yeah it is SLASH. So consider yourself warned.
Disclaimer: Rowling owns all characters. All the lovely phrases are mine.
***
It was easy to understand why the Dark Lord wanted him. Or at least now it was. The Harry Potter I first met was a scrawny little runt with wild hair and green eyes too large and intense for his face. I remember well the surge of annoyance I felt every time that child- that insignificant little upstart, who wasn't even pureblood, ruined my plans. I wanted to take his head in my hands and crush it like a bug, the blood running down my arm in rivulets that sparkled like rubies, the dark hair flattened at last with the help of more blood and the grey matter that had been his brain. I wanted him to die a slow and torturous end. I wanted him to beg for mercy. There would be none, of course, but I wanted to see the tears, hear the pitiful cries before tossing him into a dark cell to waste away.
But now...He was laid out on my bed by house elves. He was unconscious, so I had ample opportunity to examine him. He was the proverbial ugly duckling grown into a magnificent swan. His face had finally grown into his eyes. They were closed now, and jet lashes curled against his cheek. He had filled out nicely. In his Muggle clothes, it was quite easy to see the shape of his well-formed muscles beneath smooth, tanned skin.He really does look like James, except his features are slightly finer, more delicate. I suppose that was Lily's influence.
He was gorgeous, beautiful in a way completely foreign to my family. I want to kiss him, see the fear in his eyes when he woke up and found my lips on his. See the conflict in his eyes as he tried to steel himself against the pleasure. Feel a surge of triumph when he fails. I want to cut him. See the glittering blood, taste it hot and metallic on my tongue. I want to heal him, see the skin unblemished and perfect then break it again to watch the crimson stream gush to surface. I want to hear him scream, pain melting into ecstasy. Know I totally possess him. See tears of shame fall from portals of jade, kiss them away softly. Hold him close. Laugh at his pretty pain. See him broken in my arms. Kiss him again, his body pliant and yielding beneath me. Mine. Lovely fallen angel, drugged and taken out of paradise. Purity tainted. Innocence lost. Image destroyed on your way down into this hell for the two of us. Mine. Perfect and destroyed. Mine.
I unbutton his shirt. His narrow, muscled torso is rose-petal soft beneath my fingers. And warm. Deliciously warm. What a shame the Dark Lord wants to kill you. I'll turn you in and he'll put the Cruciatus curse on you. Then he'll use Advada Kedavra, destroying all the pretty little fantasies in my head. The cloud castles will come tumbling down about my ears, victims to his lack of imagination. Forgive, love. I have a duty to perform. At his command I'll serve dinner. Swan on a golden platter. That swan, my dear, is you.
***
Okay, what did you think? Is Lucius appropriately twisted? Is it too short? I guess I could continue...Please review.
Luv ya-
J. Silver
This is written through Lucius Malfoy's eyes/mind. It's not pleasant, there's one rather graphic violent image. Oh, yeah it is SLASH. So consider yourself warned.
Disclaimer: Rowling owns all characters. All the lovely phrases are mine.
***
It was easy to understand why the Dark Lord wanted him. Or at least now it was. The Harry Potter I first met was a scrawny little runt with wild hair and green eyes too large and intense for his face. I remember well the surge of annoyance I felt every time that child- that insignificant little upstart, who wasn't even pureblood, ruined my plans. I wanted to take his head in my hands and crush it like a bug, the blood running down my arm in rivulets that sparkled like rubies, the dark hair flattened at last with the help of more blood and the grey matter that had been his brain. I wanted him to die a slow and torturous end. I wanted him to beg for mercy. There would be none, of course, but I wanted to see the tears, hear the pitiful cries before tossing him into a dark cell to waste away.
But now...He was laid out on my bed by house elves. He was unconscious, so I had ample opportunity to examine him. He was the proverbial ugly duckling grown into a magnificent swan. His face had finally grown into his eyes. They were closed now, and jet lashes curled against his cheek. He had filled out nicely. In his Muggle clothes, it was quite easy to see the shape of his well-formed muscles beneath smooth, tanned skin.He really does look like James, except his features are slightly finer, more delicate. I suppose that was Lily's influence.
He was gorgeous, beautiful in a way completely foreign to my family. I want to kiss him, see the fear in his eyes when he woke up and found my lips on his. See the conflict in his eyes as he tried to steel himself against the pleasure. Feel a surge of triumph when he fails. I want to cut him. See the glittering blood, taste it hot and metallic on my tongue. I want to heal him, see the skin unblemished and perfect then break it again to watch the crimson stream gush to surface. I want to hear him scream, pain melting into ecstasy. Know I totally possess him. See tears of shame fall from portals of jade, kiss them away softly. Hold him close. Laugh at his pretty pain. See him broken in my arms. Kiss him again, his body pliant and yielding beneath me. Mine. Lovely fallen angel, drugged and taken out of paradise. Purity tainted. Innocence lost. Image destroyed on your way down into this hell for the two of us. Mine. Perfect and destroyed. Mine.
I unbutton his shirt. His narrow, muscled torso is rose-petal soft beneath my fingers. And warm. Deliciously warm. What a shame the Dark Lord wants to kill you. I'll turn you in and he'll put the Cruciatus curse on you. Then he'll use Advada Kedavra, destroying all the pretty little fantasies in my head. The cloud castles will come tumbling down about my ears, victims to his lack of imagination. Forgive, love. I have a duty to perform. At his command I'll serve dinner. Swan on a golden platter. That swan, my dear, is you.
***
Okay, what did you think? Is Lucius appropriately twisted? Is it too short? I guess I could continue...Please review.
Luv ya-
J. Silver