I. The Taking
"Hey Malfoy!"
Monday morning on a drizzly November day, 1944, the students of Hogwarts were bleary eyed and disinterestedly munching on their toast in the Great Hall. Hufflepuff fifth-year prefect Ewan McCartney walked towards Lucius Malfoy, who had just entered the Great Hall with a bunch of his Slytherin year mates.
Lucius narrowed his eyes at him. He had not expected this. McCartney had stormed off crying last night when he had told him their little tryst was over. Now he looked distinctly unhinged.
"Fuck off, McCartney," he warned. "It's too early in the morning to talk to scum."
His friends laughed. McCartney, disturbingly, also found this funny.
"Oh I disagree, Malfoy, I disagree. It's never too early to expose a slime-eating, double-faced shitbag, is it?"
Before Lucius could snap back, he pulled something from his pocket. He held it up in front of Lucius and Lucius' eyes widened in horror. McCartney had a picture of him, lying naked in the Hufflepuff's bed, eyes closed, cock wet, spunk pooling on his stomach. As he watched, a hand, wearing the same wristwatch as the one the Hufflepuff was currently wearing, pulled up the covers over Lucius' chest. Lucius heard the whispers as his friends took a step back from him.
"Incendio!" Lucius snarled.
But McCartney dodged out of his reach, laughing like a maniac.
"I think everyone should see this, don't you?"
"Accio photograph!" Lucius cried, but as he spoke McCartney also held his wand to the photo, and the picture began to multiply like a swarm of locusts.
They fell to the floor, and in the commotion even those who had thus far ignored the little showdown in front of the Hufflepuff table came and picked up pictures from the hundreds spreading on the floor.
"Oh Merlin—" He heard.
"Disgusting!"
"Are you fucking stupid?" Lucius hissed at McCartney, shaking with fury. "I am not the only one in that picture."
McCartney threw the original over his shoulder with a laugh.
"Yeah, yeah, I suppose I'm somewhat in it too. But you know what? I understand people like you. You're always going on about how prestigious your house is. But your house is more of a fucking prison than mine ever will be. What will your precious friends do to you now that they know you're a little…fucking…queer?"
Lucius lunged at him. Before Lucius could get more than a few punches into him, the two Hufflepuff beaters McCartney was always hanging around with pulled him off. Still laughing loudly, McCartney left with his friends, leaving Lucius lying on the ground, surrounded by whispers and stares, and friends who no longer looked at all friendly.
The change was immediate. Before, Lucius had been one of the most popular Slytherins in his year. He could not compare, of course, to Tom Riddle's group of upper-year Slytherins, who unofficially ruled their house. It was prestigious to be seen with Tom Riddle. The younger students often heard his closest call him 'my lord', and it was coveted to be able to call him that. Lucius, too young to be of any interest to Riddle, did not have that luxury. But he had his place. Now, he couldn't enter the common room without jeers and insults. He was disgraced.
A few days later, as he sat alone at the breakfast table, trying his best to hold up his head, a bright crimson letter landed in front of him with the Malfoy crest stamped into the seal. Lucius' heart sank. The Slytherins sitting closest to him had already noticed.
"Aren't you gonna open that, Malfoy?"
"I wonder what it says."
Lucius broke the seal. His father's voice rose from the envelope, cold, furious, and loud enough to shush all other conversations in the Great Hall.
"The House of Malfoy will not tolerate such impurity and disgrace as you have brought to it. Consider yourself disowned."
"No…" Lucius groaned, bile rising to his throat.
He stumbled from his seat, knowing that he would be mocked for running out of the room, but the only alternative was throwing up at the table.
Lucius wished he could hide in the toilet all day. His father's letter had cemented his social disgrace. A pureblood disowned by his house was thought of in the same way as Mudbloods and blood traitors— a disgrace, an abomination. He would have no home to return to. All because he couldn't keep it in his fucking pants. He should never have started that disgusting affair with McCartney in the first place.
He dashed a letter off to his father before his first class, saying that whatever he had heard, it was not true, practically begging for his father's forgiveness. He started running when he got to the dungeons, already late for his Potions class. He rounded a corner and clashed heavily into a taller boy, who stumbled back a step before slamming him into the wall. He had run into Tom Riddle.
"What's the hurry?" Riddle asked coldly.
"Sorry, Riddle," Lucius panted. "I was late for Potions."
"Busy wanking?" Sneered a voice from behind Riddle. One of his cohorts, no doubt.
"I'm sure he was much busier groveling to his father, isn't that right?" Riddle picked out an owl feather from Lucius' blond hair. "Such a shame, Malfoy. Outmaneuvered by a Hufflepuff. Even if your father could stomach a son of such disgusting habits, how could he hand the Malfoy fortune to an indiscrete fool?"
Riddle brushed past him, his cohorts following. One of them glared at Lucius as he walked by, saying, "You better watch yourself, Malfoy."
There was nowhere to avoid them. There were poisonous snakes in his bed, his textbooks were torn and marked with insults, when he turned on the shower slime burst out of it. Lucius had never experienced such isolation. Lucius had always managed to be on the right side, he was good at doing what was expected of him. But for this. After Cleaning Charms failed to get all of the rancid slime out of his hair, Lucius remembered that McCartney had once taken him to the prefect's bathroom, and he knew the password. He headed up there to get a moment of peace and quiet. The coast was clear when he went in and had a relaxing bath. After moping around for close to an hour, he drained the bath and turned to leave.
Lucius froze, hand on the door as he stepped into the corridor. There was no running, Tom Riddle was coming towards him in long strides, a little smile already playing on his lips, his dark eyes locked on Lucius'. He grabbed Lucius' arm, pulled him into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut.
"Rather tasteless, is it not, making use of the leftover gift of an ex-lover who destroyed your life?"
Lucius flushed. Before he could respond, Riddle forced him to his knees. Looking up wide-eyed, Lucius tried to get up but found that he could not. Riddle unfastened his breeches with long graceful fingers.
"You might as well be of some use, little Lucius."
"What? No, I won't!"
Riddle laughed. He fisted a hand in Lucius' long blond hair and jerked his head back. Lucius pressed his lips together tightly, reaching for his wand.
"Crucio."
In the excruciating pain, Lucius dropped his wand on the floor and opened his mouth to scream. Riddle thrust his cock down Lucius' throat, released him of the Cruciatus Curse, and bound his hands. He thrust into Lucius' mouth roughly, making him gag. Eyes watering, Lucius tried to think of any possible way he could escape from this. But Tom Riddle was so powerful, Lucius could think of no one he could go to. Nobody would believe him if he said Tom Riddle had raped him. He knelt there helplessly taking it until Riddle came all over his face.
Panting, Lucius reached for his wand. Before he could touch it, it was covered by Tom Riddle's boot. He glanced up, utterly humiliated, fear building in his gut. He cringed when Riddle raised his wand, but it was only to undo the bindings on his wrists.
"Take off your clothes."
Lucius reeled at the order, delivered in such a cool, calm tone. For all his Slytherin cunning, he was helpless against the absolute power that Riddle held over him. Riddle was commended by his professors as the most talented wizard of the century. He was adored by the entire school, in fact, before his social disgrace, Lucius had looked up to him so much, and would have done anything for a moment of Riddle's attention. His pride struggled with the very recent realisation of his worthlessness.
Under Riddle's cool gaze, Lucius began to unfasten his tie. His fingers shook. Riddle's come clung to his lips, sticky and bitter. He bowed his head and kept his eyes on the floor as he shed his clothes, but he found, to his own astonishment, that he was more than half hard. He had no idea this could be more humiliating.
Riddle wrapped his fingers around Lucius' cock, and it jerked eagerly in response.
"Poor little whore," Riddle murmured in his ear. "I had no idea you wanted it this much. Why, I would have put you out of your misery sooner."
Tears prickled Lucius' eyes and he tried desperately to hold back any sounds.
"Spread your legs."
Lucius had obeyed even before he had registered what he was doing. Riddle's cool fingers caressed his balls and stroked his cock until Lucius was embarrassingly aroused. Suddenly, Riddle closed his fist with crushing force around Lucius' balls.
Lucius howled in pain, doubling over and cradling himself. As the tears rolled down his cheeks, Lucius heard Riddle laugh.
"Finger yourself."
"No," Lucius sobbed, shaking his head.
"Unless you'd prefer I fuck you dry?"
Lucius flinched. He had never bottomed before.
"I don't have lubricant."
"Use your saliva."
Hesitantly, Lucius pressed a finger into his mouth. He wet it, and reached back to find the puckered entrance. He pressed it in slowly, feeling the soft burn.
"Hurry up," said Riddle.
"Please," said Lucius, his voice breaking. "I've never…never…"
"Really," Riddle said, his voice smooth and pleasant. "It makes no difference to me."
Lucius added another finger, scissoring them inside his tight passage. His saliva provided the barest of lubrication, and he was sick with dread at the thought of Riddle's cock splitting him apart.
"Please, Riddle…can you conjure some lubricant? It'll make it better for you, I promise. You won't fit, otherwise."
"What do you call me?"
"My…my lord?" Lucius hated himself for the little thrill he got in saying the words. It was no sign of status here. It was a sign of subservience, or maybe just a dirty sex game.
"Good boy."
His hand was pushed away. He pressed his cheek against the cold marble floor, and tried to even his breathing. Riddle's cock nudged at his hole, wide and blunt and wet. In one sharp motion, Riddle thrust into him, not stopping until he was completely buried in Lucius' arse. Lucius screamed.
"Stop, stop, please stop!"
"Silencio."
As Lucius was forced into silence, the room resonated with the sound of meaty slaps and Riddle's heavy breathing. Lucius closed his eyes and sobbed silently. It hurt terribly at first, but though Riddle never let up his harsh pace, it became a little easier to bear. Lucius tried to think of anything else, but his mind wouldn't work while his arse was being plummeted so deeply and thoroughly. At some point, it even started to feel good, and Lucius thoughtlessly reached for his hardening cock. In response, Riddle tied his wrists together again.
After some time, Riddle's thrusts became quick and erratic, and Lucius felt the moment his arse warmed with come. Riddle rode out his climax and pulled out.
When Lucius got up again, he found Riddle running a bath. His wand was discarded on the floor, but he was still bound and silenced and the door was locked. The door of the prefect's bathroom couldn't be unlocked by anyone but the person who locked it. He stood there uncertainly as Riddle got into the bath.
"Get in and wash yourself."
Lucius glanced back at his wand again. Seeing the motion, Riddle snorted. Lucius realised how ridiculous it was to refuse this, of all things. He carefully lowered himself into the opposite corner of the large sunken bathtub. Catching Riddle's eye, he lifted his bound hands to his mouth and gazed at him pleadingly. Riddle smiled, and lifted a hand out of the water. Lucius felt a spell lift, and cleared his throat. Riddle had wandlessly lifted the silencing charm.
"I can't wash myself like this," Lucius said.
"Then beg me to untie you." Riddle replied, shampooing his wet hair.
Looking down at the magical ropes wound tightly around his wrists, Lucius said, "Please, my lord. Please will you untie me?"
"I'm unconvinced."
"My lord, please…please, please, I beg you…" Lucius' voice cracked.
The ropes disappeared.
Gasping in relief, Lucius rubbed his sore wrists.
"What should you say?"
"Thank you, my lord."
Lucius scooped up water to wash tears and come from his face. His arse was sore, and he was trembling uncontrollably. He didn't know how to act. He was terrified, but there was still a part of him that hero-worshipped Tom Riddle. He had always admired the older boy for his effortless grace and charm, his power and wit, the ruthless manner he kept his followers in check. It was his own fault that he was a disgrace, and of course, that utter bastard Ewan McCartney. He longed for revenge, but in the days since he had fallen from his place, he had been too downtrodden to think of anything he could do to the bastard.
"My lord," Lucius ventured timidly, "can I ask something of you?"
Riddle turned to him, lean muscles rippling in the water. He narrowed his eyes at Lucius.
"You want me to destroy McCartney, the way he destroyed you, hm?"
"Yes, my lord."
Riddle swam towards him until he could lift Lucius' chin.
"Presumptuous little boy. Just because you happened to be in my path, does not mean I am your champion now. Submitting to me screaming and crying does not warrant a reward. I require far more than that."
"I'm sorry, my lord," Lucius found himself saying. "I'll do better. What…what can I do to be useful to you?"
"What can you do?" Riddle repeated condescendingly. "Be more observant and perhaps you shall see."
Lucius stared at Riddle as he turned away disinterestedly and began to rinse out his hair. A thought came to him, and he blushed with embarrassment. But what did he have to lose? He grabbed the soap, lathered his hands, and waded across to Riddle. Riddle turned to look over his shoulder.
"My lord, let me…" Lucius stammered, heart thudding wildly, as he pressed his palms to Riddle's back and lathered him with soap.
Riddle didn't stop him. His skin was warm and supple under Lucius' fingers, and as Lucius' hands traced the beautiful curve of his narrowing waist, he realised that if Riddle had asked him to go to bed with him, he would have fallen over himself to agree. But Riddle never asked. Riddle took, or he expected people to offer what he wanted willingly without him ever having to voice it. His power was intoxicating.
Lucius knelt to wash Riddle's legs, and then gingerly brushed his fingers over his buttocks and even into the cleft. Riddle turned around, and Lucius stood up quickly, nervous, but Riddle only smirked at him.
"I think you are enjoying yourself a little too much."
Riddle gripped Lucius' jaw with wet fingers and kissed him. Lucius moaned, high-pitched in surprise. Riddle tasted of water and mint and his tongue caught Lucius' perfectly. Riddle's other hand wrapped around Lucius' waist and pulled him flush against Riddle's wet, naked body. Lucius could feel his cock swell against Riddle's thigh.
Lucius was dizzy when Riddle pulled away. Riddle looked down at him with amusement.
"You see, Lucius? I can be a generous lord."
"Yes, my lord," Lucius agreed fervently.
Riddle lifted himself out of the bath, and extended a hand to help Lucius up. Lucius quickly grabbed two bath towels and dried Riddle before he dried himself. As he put his robes back on, Riddle was already dressed, leaning against the door watching him. Lucius picked up his wand from the floor, and was about to put it away when he paused.
He dropped to one knee in front of Riddle and lifted his wand up with both hands, head bowed. An offer of servitude.
Laughing, Riddle took his wand and tapped him on the head. A warm wave of magic enveloped him. Belatedly, Lucius realised Riddle had dried his hair for him.
"Rise."
Riddle handed his wand back to him.
"Little Lucius, I am not unsympathetic. Show me what you can offer me, and perhaps you will be rewarded."
Riddle turned, unlocked the door, and left, leaving Lucius clutching his wand, desperately thinking of ways he could prove himself worthy.
