Belle époque – First Chapter
The sky displayed a deep, cloudless shade of blue. The morning quiet was barely disturbed by singing birds and rustling leaves. The sunlight sneaked in through the half-opened window, softening the shadows.
Lucius couldn't help but to notice how brighter the light was in the South, even that early.
A form stirred at his side and a young woman emerged from under the sheets. Her hair was but a shade darker than his. She stretched smoothly then looked at him with sparkling eyes.
"Barely awake and already lost in your thoughts?"
"I'm trying to feel the moment."
After all, when could one be more satisfied of his life? A beautiful woman at his side, academic success – he learnt the day before that he obtained an O to all last years' exams, and that he'd been chosen to be Slytherin's prefect for the following year – and gifted with the name of one of England's most prestigious families.
She laughed and came closer, her adult body pressing against Lucius', still adolescent. In a month, he had got used to it, and he let his hand slide on her back, getting a purr out of her.
"I'll miss you", she sighed, breathing his scent. "All our customers aren't that delicious."
Lucius searched her face, wondering if she told this to all the men who laid with her. He decided against asking and pulled her closer instead. After all, he only had hours before his father arrived to take him back to England.
"I will most certainly miss you too", he whispered in her ear, provoking another laugh.
"I don't doubt that. But for how long? When school starts, you'll have all the girls at your feet and I will be but a memory."
However truthful, it was more a tease than a complaint. Lucius kissed her – at length, expertly, because she and the others taught him well – then granted her a smile.
"None of them will be half-succubus. Be sure I won't forget our embraces."
She wrinkled her nose mischievously, looking precisely like the half-demoness she was with that expression; Lucius could almost see two little horns at the top of her head. This was but his imagination though. Halflings, even first generation like her, never had any demonic attribute other than their ravenous hunger for sex, which predisposed them to a certain profession.
He had always thought that hunger was a metaphor, but during the last four weeks he had the occasion to discover that succubuses and their male counterparts, incubuses, truly fed on carnal pleasure. Even if their human ascendance allowed them to eat more normal food, it didn't sate them. When she told him he was "delicious", it wasn't a manner of speech.
The young woman sat, letting the sliding sheet reveal her perfect curves. In the same motion, she settled on his belly, shameless – she wanted breakfast and Lucius wasn't going to complain.
"You learnt well", she smirked. "On your first day you would have blushed like the virgin you were."
"Wasn't it the point of my presence here, Dona?"
The succubus slid her hand on his torso, appreciating the softness of his skin above muscles formed by Quidditch.
"I hope you'll come back. If you're bored, next summer…" She started moving in a very interesting way. "By the way, don't you know Serafino Anghelis? He must be in your year, back at Hogwarts, isn't he?"
Lucius grunted.
"I hope you have a very good reason to talk about him right now."
She stuck out her tongue but stopped moving. Lucius sighed.
"Since you insist", she pointed out. "I just wanted to ask you to pass on my regards to his mother."
The teenager stared at her, but she didn't offer any explanation, resuming her hips' movements instead. He soon stopped thinking about questions while her eyes became golden with Hunger. She licked her lips, savoring the hormones produced by her touch.
"I wonder what you'll look like as an adult."
The door rattled. She stopped again as a second woman entered the room.
Lucius had enjoyed her talents as well in the past days. She was Dona's elder sister and was called Afrodite, a name perfectly suited to her pale, sugary skin, her round breasts and the perfect curve of her hips. Where Dona was beautiful, Afrodite was gorgeous. Lucius wondered more than once why such a woman didn't find herself a husband to get out of this job.
Afrodite walked in and nodded, satisfied.
"Sorry to bother, I was merely checking that you were awake. Abraxas will arrive in less than two hours."
"I still have time for a snack, don't I?" pouted Dona.
Afrodite folded her arms under her breasts and Lucius fought back a grunt. The two women looked at him, amused. The bloody succubuses could taste exactly how much he wanted them. Dona started moving before her sister could answer.
"Want some?" she asked.
Afrodite looked at Lucius then sat on the bed, unbuttoning her dress. The entire month of July hasn't been enough to get used to the succubuses' ways and the mere idea of the two sisters naked in his bed aroused him indeed. He forgot everything, even his father impending arrival, when the second body pressed against his.
osososo
Abraxas Malfoy was the Malfoy. Everything in him screamed of authority, from his steel grey eyes able to bend any will to the stiffness of his back, the disdain of his lips or his perfectly cut robes. He seemed at ease in all situations; Lucius never saw him wince.
He hence hadn't been surprised to find him sitting comfortably in an armchair, sipping a glass of wine while conversing with Mrs Terry.
Mrs Terry was the bawdy house's tenant and Dona and Afrodite's boss. The house was not theirs, though; it was one of the Malfoy's French dependences, provided by Abraxas for the occasion.
Lucius had been hearing the rumors since childhood: during their 15th year, Malfoy's males were educated in order not to shame their ancestors. After all, they had to excel in everything. Lucius hadn't given the stories any credit until his father announced he'd pay him holidays in France.
Abraxas was being utterly charming with Mrs Terry and she, in turn, looked at him with some interest. Since this was a familial tradition, Lucius wondered if they had been lovers, long ago, when his father had been his age. The thought was a disturbing one and the boy pushed it away as he entered the room, greeting them both politely.
"I thought to be on time…" he added, just in case – no one ever wanted to annoy Abraxas.
"You are", his father said, putting his glass on the table. "I came early to offer my respects to the ladies."
Mrs Terry nodded gracefully. Did she also have succubus blood? Hard to tell. Lucius didn't have the privilege to touch her and, truth be said, he had been way too busy with the other girls to wonder. The woman had some kind of mature charm, with her spotless dress and her half respectable, half sensual looks.
"I imagine we'll be going, now", declared Abraxas. "Did you take your luggage along?"
Lucius nodded. They gave their last regards to Mrs Terry and took a portkey back to England. The shock was pretty hard – as always with long-distance trips – and the young man barely managed to stay on his feet. He recovered his balance just in time, thanking his good reflexes and years of Quidditch training, and straightened to meet Abraxas' cold glare.
A shudder ran through his spine. What did he do wrong, now? There never had been any unnecessary warmth between them – he was the Malfoy's heir, not the loved puppy of some spoiled lady – but still. He just came back from a six-month leave, only interrupted by their brief journey to France. He certainly didn't had any time to lapse in the five minutes they just spent together.
"You're back", said abruptly Abraxas. "You were expected."
Lucius frowned. Before he could ask anything, a known shape appeared at the top of the stairs.
Obviously satisfied, paler and stranger than during the previous summer, Lord Voldemort walked down to join them.
osososo
Lucius didn't remember when precisely he met Lord Voldemort. The Lord and his father always knew each other or, at least, met way before Lucius' birth. His visits, however, had been rare during the young man's childhood; Lucius only knew the Lord as his father's longtime friend and was vaguely aware he travelled a lot.
Then Voldemort came back to live in the United Kingdom. Of course, Lucius was at Hogwarts for most of the year, but the Lord had been invited to Malfoy Manor during the summer of his second year, then his third, when they were officially introduced.
That moment was hard to forget. Matthew Walters, Serafino Anghelis and Samantha Delacroix were present as well, all three Slytherins of the same year as he.
While Matthew and Serafino were from Old wizard families, the girl probably hadn't been there by design. She was the only daughter of a French diplomat based in London since 1962 but, though they were wizards, none of her parents showed any interest in joining Lucius' parents circle of friends. Samantha had only been included in the introduction because she'd been invited for the holidays – and the four of them had met the Lord together.
Lucius remembered the pulsing magic he felt even before the man entered the room. When he finally appeared, the Lord offered him a private smile, or so Lucius had thought – Serafino and Matthew later told him they felt the same way, as if the smile had been directed to them.
Then, the Lord had shaken their hands, finishing by Lucius, and had pierced him on his red, keen glaze. The fourteen-year-old had felt naked, occulmancy shields nonetheless – he had checked them, just in case. Voldemort's perfect but too pale face had approached his. Hypnotized, Lucius would have let him do anything, but the Lord only whispered:
"Lucius Malfoy, isn't it? You're made of the same steel than your father. I'm sure we'll get along."
He then backed off, turning to their parents to congratulate them on their children. Abraxas seemed very neutral next to the flattered Walters and to Samael Anghelis, who watched the scene with a pleased smile.
Ever since, Lucius barely talked with the Lord, but still noted his omnipresence at the manor during his fourth year's summer. Seeing him again wasn't a surprise; learning he'd been waiting for him was.
The Lord greeted Abraxas briefly then went to Lucius, casting him an appraising look which would have disgusted him profoundly, had the man been less impressive. Docile but tensed, the teenager made a little bow.
"My Lord."
"You grew up well", declared the Lord in a velvet voice. "What a shame I didn't have more time to spend with you until now… but this detail will be soon repaired."
Not knowing what answer to give, Lucius remained silent. So now was the time to join this famous friends' circle… He guessed that time would come, of course, but didn't think it would that early.
The wizard's white hand brushed his cheek; Lucius fought not to recoil.
"Abraxas, would you leave me your son?" the Lord asked. "I'll also need your office; the afternoon should be enough."
Instead of taking offense like Lucius expected, Abraxas just nodded and escorted them to said office. It usually was the holy of holies; Lucius himself rarely entered it, and only when he displeased his father in a way or another.
A fire burned in the fireplace, courtesy of the elves. The Lord waved to an armchair which quietly moved from closer to the fire. He sat. Abraxas left wordlessly, leaving a stunned Lucius alone with the Lord.
However strange his father's behavior, Lucius wasn't impressed. The place was a familiar one and the bright light of early afternoon came from the windows.
Lucius stood straight and cold. The Lord looked at him for a few seconds. When the silence started to become awkward, he asked:
"Will you serve me?"
The teenager bit his tongue not to answer sharply. With a calculated indolence, he raised his eyebrows.
"Malfoys don't serve anyone."
He managed to suppress challenge from his voice, but the sentence was impudent in itself. By luck, the Lord didn't take offense, seeming rather amused by his audacity.
"Good that I'm not some anyone, then." He raised a pale hand, with long, thin fingers. "I know what I'm asking is difficult to give. Be sure the reward will be worth the sacrifice."
How exactly did he intend to repay his whole freedom?
"Is the power itself not enough?" the Lord inquired, reading the unasked question on his face.
Lucius decided once again in favor of boldness.
"Don't the Malfoy possess enough power already?"
He immediately wished he could take those words back: he couldn't be summarized at Malfoy's name only and – however hard the admission – next to his father, he wasn't worth much. Yet.
Nonetheless, his protest seemed enough for the Lord to answer with a demonstration. Lucius couldn't help but to stare when he felt the older wizard's power unfurl. The magic was dormant, unaggressive, merely floating around them, and yet…
Yet Lucius' hands were shaking.
"You should know that Magic" and the Lord most certainly gave a capital to the word "doesn't have limits. The power it can give you… that I can give you…" His power stretched wide enough to brush Lucius' body, closing around him, embracing him. He fought to stay straight, despise the sudden weakness of his knees. "Isn't it worth submission?"
Sweet Merlin, the Lord had the same voice than a cat, had cats had voices. Cats? No, more like the purr of some big feline.
A spiral of pure magic stroked Lucius' cheek, ghost of the Lord's fingers. Once again, the boy fought back, not allowing himself to give up even a little. The Lord's eyes glowed with pleasure.
"You're most certainly worthy of me. So young and already you can stand up to me, showing no weakness. However, you still have to learn when to submit."
Lucius didn't answer. His throat was way too tight, and the magic surrounding him… no. Better stay silent.
"I'm asking for the last time. I suggest you meditate well on your answer before giving it." Acoustic sensuality. Really? Or was the magic blurring his perceptions? "Do you submit, Lucius? Do you give yourself to me?"
He had to submit or to die. The Lord rose and, this time, Lucius let himself fall on his knees – but was it because he didn't have any choice or because he couldn't fight anymore? He whispered a "yes" and, before he could ask himself what would happen next, the Magic plunged into him.
osososo
To describe the ritual which left the indelible mark on his left arm was impossible. To bear the Lord's pulsing power when he was simply standing in the same room had been difficult; when it sank into him, Lucius' thoughts simply vanished, swapped away by raw power. His own magic was first overrun, then avidly tied itself to the Lord's, trying to draw strength from the greater power.
Lucius was almost certain he moaned – but then, the experience was thrilling. He had been able to do anything, had had the world on the palm of his hand, and, most of all… whatever Lord Voldemort would have asked of him then, he would have given.
Afterward, he hated this moment with all his pride and rationality – in other words, the largest part of his being. However, when he pictured it, he could only shudder while stifling the part of his mind which was waiting for more.
It lasted perhaps a few minutes, or an eternity. Then, the Lord's magic concentrated in his arm, burning him from pain or pleasure. During a second, his entire self converged to the Lord in a total, perfect connection. Then, slowly, the magic withdrew and he was in his father's office again, panting, on his knees on the carpet, on his knees in front of his Lord.
Lucius hated him then, fiercely. Only the numbness the experience left him into prevented him from striking, with his bare hands, without even using his wand. The hatred thankfully flew back, leaving him exhausted but lucid.
Lucius got up, disdaining the wizard's helping hand.
"I'll be fine."
He knew he should have bowed, kept his eyes on the floor, perhaps even kiss his master's hand – and this word, master, called up another wave of rage. He glared.
"I need to rest. We'll see each other again – later."
When he reached his rooms, he instantly regretted his own conduct. Submitting then would have helped later. Annoyed with himself, he dropped on his bed and closed his eyes, channeling his wrath into a more constructive emotion.
The Mark was still pulsing on his naked arm. When exactly did he roll up his sleeve?
Alright. So, he was now owned by the Lord. He didn't have any choices in the matter; he still had to figure out how to use it. He racked his brains for a while. Nothing, nothing. Merlin, he didn't even know what this circle wanted! His father always kept him clear of them, except for his formal introduction to the Lord, two years ago.
Lucius sat up. His first priority was to get information – but before that, he had to make up for his bold departure. He doubted the Lord had been pleased with his escape. Left alone, when he clearly hoped to spend the whole afternoon in his company… That might have been funny if it wasn't so dangerous.
The teenager used his wand to get some good clothes. He'd dressed properly on the morning but certainly not appropriately for such a great host. If he had to apologize – and Nimue knew that would be bitter – better do it right.
He slipped his robes, leaving the previous ones to the elves, and casted a spell to get his hair done and to refresh his face. Then, stroking nervously his blond hair, he went back to the corridor.
End note:
Alright, so this was a test in order to see if my English isn't too bad to actually translate my own work (and if the work is interesting enough to do so).
So please, let me know if you want me to continue the translation!
For those who don't like to review, here's the code:
1) About the language:
A- Your English is fine! No problem!
B- Why do you even bother to try? I didn't even understand what you wrote!
C- Well, you know, it's not that bad. We can handle it.
2) About the fic:
A- Great work! Moreover, Lucius is my favourite character, please continue!
B- We don't care about Lucius anymore (or Harry Potter for that matter). Moreover, your plot seems sloppy.
C- I'm curious. Just do another chapter then I'll tell you, okay?
So, your answer may simply be "AC" or "BB".
Thanks for reading me ;)
July was ending. August promised to be the worst month of his life – Lucius still ignored it would be followed by many others.
