Wiping Memories

Warnings: Younger/Older, Slash, Voldemort wins 2nd War, slightly non-con

Characters: Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, Fenrir Greyback, Harry Potter, Various Death-Eaters.

…..

"Lucius, welcome-welcome… I have been expecting you." Came a soft, hissing snake like voice from the cavernous, cold chambers of the Minister of Magic's office.

The blond man brushed his long silvery hair off his shoulders and strode on purposefully, his gait long and sauntering, his posture proud and stiff, he looked like a royal. The staff he held under one Dragon leather gloved hand click-clacked against the honey brown wooden beams of floor, it was ebony… glossy and smooth with a sliver head in the shape of a Hungarian Horntail with emerald eyes that seemed to burn with cold fire and its tongue meandering out wrapping itself around the length of the staff. He was an elegant man, well built with lean muscles and an air of cold dignity. Just over six feet he was a man well-kept for his age, which a stranger would guess to be around forty, his face was creaseless… marble like skin stretched tight over an aristocratic nose, slanting fair eyebrows, high cheekbones and a sensual mouth that was perpetually turned down into a smirking bow. His eyes swept the room disdainfully and he was much too polite to comment on the lack of warmth and how it was one of least aesthetically pleasing rooms he had been in. His eyes were like chips of ice carved out from a glacier, flecked in faint tones of gray and deep blue.

Lucius Malfoy looked straight ahead as he walked, keeping his thoughts to himself, he had no wish to displease the man who sat on the walnut desk at the end of the room, his frail body highlighted by the backdrop of muggle London, its weak sunlight and smoky sky making the room seem even more dreary.

Voldemort's red gaze darkened imperceptibly as he noticed Lucius's obvious disdain regarding his surroundings, his thin, translucent mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed further. One elegant hand that rested upon the grainy wood of the desk raised itself to stroke the head of a thick curling boa-constrictor that wound itself around the bald man's back and shoulders.

"Good morning Lucius…" he hissed pleasantly, "I take it the restoration of the Manor is going as per your wishes?" he questioned, a slight edge to his tone.

Lucius had heard that lit long enough to know he was treading on thin ice, rearranging the expression on his face from one of smirking mundaneness to one of gratitude and pleasure he replied, "Indeed my lord, it could not be going better." He enthused.

Voldemort seemed pacified by his obvious pleasure, he relaxed into the back of the comfortable leather chair and regarded the younger man from above thin, skeletal fingers that were steepled in thought, "How are you coping with the loss of your wife, my friend?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion… he could display neither pity nor sorrow.

"It has been hard for Draco and myself." Replied Lucius in the same tone, flat and unrelenting, "But we are coping well enough, my lord. Though you have peaked my curiosity… why have you summoned me here?" He questioned respectfully though suspiciously.

Voldemort was never one to beat around the bush so he just looked Lucius straight in the eye and said, "I have a proposition for you."

"And pray tell me master, what does it involve?"

"After the defeat of Harry Potter and the demise of Miss. Granger, they still managed to cause me a great deal of pain." He said coldly.

"How, if I may ask my lord?" said Lucius, fighting down a smirk.

Voldemort glared sulkily at Nagini's slimy, slick body, "She removed all his memories, the ones of importance anyway. And I cannot retrieve them. So I wish you to take him, make him a slave. Till such time that I will be able to access what he knows he must stay with one of my faithful death-eaters and you Lucius are my third in command after Draco. He couldn't be safer." Said the red eyed man.

Lucius was a clever man; he had saved his son and turned himself into Voldemort's trusted advisor. Lucius was a clever man indeed but he was also a cruel man.

"It would be my pleasure to keep the boy for you, my lord." He said with a secret little smile crawling onto his face, his gloved thumb rubbed the head of the silver dragon in anticipation.

Voldemort nodded shortly and snapped his fingers, a brittle, cracking sound… unpleasant to the ears and forth came a diminutive little elf, short even for its species with a wide blue eyes and curling ears that reminded Lucius strangely of Draco's elf Dobby. He was scared, that was evident in his shaking knees and his downcast head.

"Master…" he whispered out, his voice trembling as violently as his knees.

"Lucius this is Jinx, he will take you to Mr. Potter and then you may be on your way." He carelessly shook his hand, vaguely in Lucius's direction… his attention already immersed in a thick, musty tome that sat on his desk.

Lucius bowed and followed the thin elf out of the room and down the corridor; Voldemort had made the Ministry his temporary home.

"The boy is locked in one of these rooms, sir." Squeaked the tiny creature, "He does not remember much… just bits and pieces."

"That is perfect…" said the blond man with a malicious smile, "I'm sure he will be just perfect."

Jinx stopped in front of door and muttered under his breath, the locked door slid open slowly and the elf bowed down low.

Lucius dismissed him and walked into the room, it was still early so the boy was asleep and Lucius could study him in leisure. He was nothing impressive, not someone you expected to be the 'Chosen One' thin and lanky, short with messy curls of dark ebony that bore signs of how he repeatedly thrust them out of his eyes, under the fluttering lids Lucius knew he would find eyes the color of the deepest ocean intermingled with the color of fresh grass. He was an attractive boy, with full slightly effeminate lips, that were deep red from his constant biting, a nervous habit the older man deduced. His thin arms were flung about carelessly and his legs tangled with the coverlet. A light covering of fine hair was coated over his legs and arms visible because he slept in his boxer shorts alone.

Harry Potter's eyes fluttered as the faint sunlight filtered through the window and fell upon his eyelids, someone stood in front of the window blocking the full glare, a tall arresting figure, not Voldemort for sure as this man was muscular and elegant.

Dressed in dark robes with blond hair that swept down to the middle of his back, powerful thighs incased in silk slacks and a high necked shirt and a leather vest, fastened upon his back was an expensive looking cloak trimmed in fur, in his gloved hands he twirled a beautiful silver incased ebony staff. Harry knew him from somewhere but he couldn't for the life of him place where.

Lucius smirked… amused by the confused crinkle of sleepy green eyes. "Hello Mr. Potter." He greeted him smoothly.

The voice was like dark chocolate thought Harry Potter, bitter yet strangely evocative like a shot of strong black coffee.

"Hello." He greeted him back, fumbling on the side table to fetch his glasses. Biting his lip as he tried to gather his thoughts, he was oddly scattered this morning. Definitely something to do with the stranger in front of him. With his glasses on he regarded Lucius, he was a handsome man thought Harry yet cold.

"Mr. Potter, I'm afraid you must come with me."

"Why?" asked the confused boy.

"Because the dark lord insists." Said Lucius impassively.

….

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