Lucius Malfoy opened his eyes to something that was most definitely not his room inside his Master's current stronghold. It was an octagonal room, with colorful banners on each wall, walls that were misted just enough to signal to him that this was probably a dream. Dream or not, he was willing to bet the family fortune—what hadn't been stolen from him—that it had something to do with his estranged son and the boy's Mudblood and blood-traitor foster family.
This guess was proven, a moment later, when he reached for his wand, and his hand met silk instead. He looked down and blanched.
Pink silk. Do they intend to leave me no dignity?
There was a barely stifled snigger from somewhere, but when Lucius turned to look, the source of the laughter was nowhere to be seen. Not content to know only that he was dressed in pink silk, Lucius glanced around the room for some sort of reflective surface, but found none.
"If you want a mirror, just ask, you Death Muncher," a disembodied but easily identifiable voice informed him in a tone of pure insolence.
The Potter brat. Why am I not surprised he too has something to do with this current humiliation? And Death Muncher? Do they think I will sink as low as childish name-calling?
"Mirror," he demanded tersely. Nothing happened.
"Ask nicely, Mr. Death Snarfer, or you'll get nothing," a silvery voice informed him cheerfully. This voice he recognized as well, though still no one had shown up.
The Black girl, and I'm willing to bet the Granger-Lupin girl is here as well.
Still...
"Mirror." He hesitated, then added blandly, "Please."
A mirror obediently shimmered into existence, close enough for his nose to be mashed against the reflective glass. He took a large step backward, amid more phantom sniggers.
Very amusing, children. I do so hope you're enjoying yourselves.
The image in the mirror, he found, was worse than he had previously thought. The pants were not the only item of pink silk. In fact, the entire ensemble was pink silk. He was dressed in harem pants and a handkerchief top that seemed to be stuffed for effect. He wore very elaborate eye makeup, there were long scarves draped over his arms, and for a final insult, his hair was plaited into cornrows.
The look on his face must have been very amusing indeed, because all the children immediately burst into fits of laughter. And then—finally—they appeared. It was not, Lucius saw, just his blood-traitor son and the three Mudbloods he called siblings; it was the whole unnatural group of children, so aptly named the Pride for the animals they acted like.
All the boys were dressed in a similar fashion, and their costume of billowing breeches and loose tunics was much more suitable to their gender. The girls were dressed much as the boys were, with the only noted differences being the color of the tunic and trousers and the fact that the boys' tunics went to mid-thigh, but the girls' to mid-calf.
There, of course, was his son, in a deep green tunic that went rather fetchingly with his hair. The scar on his left cheek, given him by Lucius himself, stood out against his pale skin. Next to him, her tunic a bright white and her hand linked with his, was the Lovegood girl. I suppose it is a small blessing that he chose her. The Lovegood family may be a bunch of dimwitted fools who care nothing about marriage, but at least this girl's blood is pure.
Standing on Draco's other side was the Granger-Lupin girl, dressed in cream, with her scar as prominent as Draco's. She saw Lucius's eyes flicker towards it and gave a feral grin, a grin that promised divine retribution.
It suddenly struck Lucius that he could not very well get out of this dream, if he wanted to. He tried to gulp inaudibly.
Next to Granger-Lupin was the tall Weasley redhead, dressed in a red-orange color that nearly matched his hair. That blood-traitor brat can look quite fearsome, when the notion strikes him.
Yes, despite the levity of before, Lucius sensed this would not be a pleasant occasion for him.
The next in line was the girl who had called him 'Death Snarfer'. The Black child, Meghan.
Meghan, he thought derisively. What a common name.
Her dark skin stood out against the color she wore, a rich violet. The boy next to her, wearing burnished gold, holding her hand and glaring protectively, could be none other than the Longbottom boy.
And finally, standing a little closer than two who were not openly a couple would stand, were the Weasley girl and the Potter boy, both in red; his a bright flaming red, hers a quieter, softer one. All of them had those infernal pendants on, bright polished gold, a sharp contrast to their costumes.
Potter caught his eyes and grinned, showing all of his teeth. Lucius gulped louder.
"Hello, Lucius," Potter said cheerfully, his tone of one remarking on the weather. "Fancy meeting you here."
"What do you intend by bringing me here?" he asked, keeping his voice cold and smooth as they broke from where they were standing and began to circle him slowly, almost leisurely.
"Nothing," the Granger-Lupin girl said flippantly. "We've just been noticing you've been a bad boy lately, Daddy dearest." She ran two fingers along her scar. "And you see—"
"—We can't just let that slide." Draco finished for her, circling closer before swinging out again.
"Bad for our reputation if we do," the Weasley girl informed him, her eyes gleaming maliciously. "How can we be keepers of the peace if we just let you carry on?"
"And our friends who know more than we do say you've been very bad in other universes. Ruining people's lives," the Black girl informed him. "Tsk, tsk. We can't have that."
"Unfortunately, you've been very elusive, Lucy," the Longbottom boy said, grinning as Lucius grimaced at the nickname.
"The Ministry's been running around with their heads up their arses, is what he means," the Weasley boy clarified.
"So, we just found you ourselves," the Lovegood girl continued.
"And we'll deal our own...special kind of punishment," Potter announced.
"What are you saying?" Lucius asked neutrally.
The Black girl came over and laid a blue glowing hand on his arm. He made to grab her and keep her hostage until they let him out of this dream, but vines held him in place until she had stepped away and back over to the Longbottom boy, who made a motion with his hand. The vines vanished at the boy's beckon, and he winked a brown eye at Lucius, tucking a yellow glowing hand into a pocket in his breeches.
"Don't worry, Lucky-boy," the Black girl said impishly. "Now this won't hurt a bit."
"Care to join in?" the Potter boy asked the Black girl, rolling up the sleeves of his tunic, the tone of his voice suggesting he was asking the Longbottom boy as well.
"No," Longbottom answered, indicating them both. "We've done our job. Have fun." He winked, "And we will too."
Potter made a face. "Need to know basis, Nev. She's my sister."
Black stuck her tongue out at Potter, who stuck out his in reply, and Black and Longbottom vanished.
Potter turned back to Lucius. "Hold on tight, Darth Vader. You're not the Emperor yet..."
Quite suddenly Lucius was in the middle of a gladiator stadium, dressed in peasant clothes. A growling black wolf, green-eyed and with a jagged line of white fur above its right eye, stood before him. It leapt, and he yelled as it attacked again and again. He would run and it would take him down. He would kick at it, but it seemed unaffected. The wolf tore at him until, finally, it backed off and then...winked?
Lucius was now dangling from a cliff, a red hawk pecking at his skin, then leaving and circling around to peck again while a white owl clawed at his eyes.
He was in the forest, running. A large red wildcat tore at his legs with a savage yowl. A calico cat slashed at him over and over, and he tried to kick it away, as a fox bit every exposed piece of skin.
Finally it was over, and he was back in the octagonal room, panting and gasping for breath, in more pain and more thoroughly beaten than he had ever been before.
The tip of a sword, the words 'Godric Gryffindor' visible on the blade near the hilt, was set just below his chin. A slight upward pressure forced his head up till he looked into the coldest green eyes he had ever seen.
"Be warned, Lucius. I am Alpha of this Pride, and you will not stay away from us for long," Potter said, his voice emotionless.
"And thanks to Meghan," Draco added cheerfully, "you won't remember any of this. Well, maybe some of it."
"True," Potter agreed with a nod. The he pointed his wand at Lucius and—
—he woke up, in his own bed in the stronghold of the Dark Lord. A split second later, immense calm fell over him.
That was an interesting dream. What was it about?
Shaking and in a cold sweat for no reason he could fathom, Lucius tried to sit up.
Tried being the key word, because the moment he moved, he was alerted to the many cuts, bites, bruises, scratches, and other abrasions. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe for the pain—he forced himself to ignore it long enough to call for one of those Healers sworn to his Lord.
As he waited for one to come he contemplated how he could have gotten these injuries. It is almost as if savage beasts tore at me.
But that, of course, was ridiculous.
Back in the dream, Lucius's tormentors sat around a table, sipping pumpkin juice.
"That," said Draco Black, "was fun."
"Hear, hear!" Neville Longbottom agreed.
"We needed that, too," remarked Hermione.
Harry Potter lifted his goblet. "A toast. To the end of the Dork Lord!"
"To the end of Tommy's Minions!" Ginny Weasley added.
"To marriages and babies!" was Luna Lovegood's contribution, much to the blushing of Draco.
"To Luna being able to make Draco blush!" was Meghan's.
"To surviving our N.E.W.T.s," Ron Weasley toasted feelingly.
To that, everyone drank.
A/n: I felt the urge to write this after the latest chapter of VcP (that's Vivens cum Pericula, to those who are not a peruser of Whydoyouneedtoknow's brilliant fanfictions.)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Don't I wish.
