It seemed as if I had gotten no sleep that night, yet as I was awoken, rather roughly by the house elf, it felt like I had slept as the dead. The thing was positively bug eyed with terror, for each time it tried to shake me, it admonished itself for being too harsh with me, and would go banging its head about my vanity and chairs.



Oh, missus, please wake up! Please wake up for Pippy! The missus must wake up now or else the master is going to be very angry!, the thing was screeching in my ear this time, and I rolled over and promptly ducked it over the head with my book from the nightstand. It let out a little trill of pain, but then slipped to the end of the bed and ripped the covers off my legs.



I bolted up, the abnormally frigid air ceasing my present state of sleepiness. What in Hades' name is wrong with you?, I snapped grumpily, it being too early for much of a bite in my voice. I glanced at the ruby encrusted clock that ticked away on my bureau, and found that it wasn't even a quarter past nine.


The elf visibly relaxed at seeing me conscious, and set about pulling clothes from my closet. It had assembled a more or less appropriate outfit, when it pulled another thing from behind its back.


What is that?, I asked accusingly, and it cowered. I opened my hand, making a no nonsense face, and the elf reluctantly slid the switch into my hand. It was a leather whip, a riding crop, in fact, with a small silver snake enameled into the side. I turned it over, and it read: The property of Ms. Lourdes Malfoy, Mistress of theMalfoy Manner.


I smiled, somewhat puzzled; it was an unusually sentimental gift, no to mention a surprising twist of title. This is a riding crop, yet I have no horse, I said, matter of factly, tipping the thing back into the elf's gnarled fingers.


The elf positively beamed, That is why the missus must come down to the stables after breakfast. Master would like to show you something. It hopped away, leaving the laces of the whip braided and neatly folded for use.


I rose and got dressed, much more casually, in a tastefully expensive black top that required no corset. I put on a thick green skirt, with small lacing running up the sides; it was mildly erotic in the way it encased me, and I was pleased with flattering lines it drew. Although I had fervently denied this in my head, I knew I was dressing for the Professor and not my husband.


I had already bathed the day before, and found no need to expose more skin to the cold air than necessary. My hair was loose about my shoulders, dark and twisted before brushing, but smooth and black afterwards. I ran my fingers lovingly through it, before twisting it up in a loosely held chignon.


As I went to retrieve the riding crop, I noticed that the black handkerchief was still wound around my hand. I flexed my fingers, and winced slightly in pain, though it was noticeably better. The cloth seemed to retain the scent of its owner, and was effusively pleasant. I opened a corner and peeked; the scar would heal quickly into a white line, smooth, but livid.


Both men were already seated at the table, the breakfast buffet laid out in resplendent display. I snatched a roll from one of the ornamental sculptures before greeting my husband. Good morning, Lucius, I said, running my hand over his shoulders, he nodded and kissed my hand, the food he had already eaten leaving a shiny stain on my skin. Good morning, Professor, I turned to him, feeling a weird heave in my stomach as I did so. He acknowledged my presence with the most miniscule of nods, and he quickly ushered a forkful of food into between his lips, I suppose as a way to avoid speaking to me.


Lourdes, what is that?, Lucius asked, annoyed, as he caught sight of the crop in my hand. I showed it to him wordlessly, and he looked perplexed as I felt. I could not understand my husband's puzzlement, for whom else would have given me such an obviously suggestive gift? I turned to the Professor, who was still avoiding my eye.


Where did you get this?, he asked me carefully, handing it to me. The house elf said this morning that you had something to show me, I said hesitantly, still trying to see if this was one of Lucius' jokes that he loved to finish by bestowing gifts on me. He turned it over in his hand, and ran his thumb briefly over the inscription.


I don't remember it, he confessed earnestly, and looked at me oddly. I was feeling fairly hysteric. This is a rather intimating gift, is it not?, he asked, something askance in his tone. I looked at his expression, which he kept wisely hid. I knew that he probably suspected me of infidelity.


Lucius, the elf told me that it was you who had something to show me. You know the elves, they cannot tell a lie, I said desperately, clutching the thing between my hands. I looked at the Professor again, who was staring at me in a very calculating way; I gave him a furious stare, at which he started upon his food once more.


Perhaps this is an omen that a new horse is in order?, Lucius asked, and suddenly I realised his game. My old horse, Aries, some thoroughbred whom I had kept for many, many years, was lame and dying, yet I had I kept it magically remedied far longer than was humane. I loved Aries not because he was so magnificent, but because he and I were much alike, rudimentary beasts set in an overly cruel world. Aries understood the injustices which I had suffered, with this milky eyes, and in return I gave him the most comfortable life for which he could ever hope.


You....you put Aries down?, I whispered, the riding crop beginning to vibrate between my taut hands. He patted my shoulder awkwardly, detesting any display of sentiment or weakness. His eyes, however, remained cool.


The horse was nearly dead, Lourdes, it was the only human thing to do, his voice was gentle, but there was a threatening tow beneath. I knew if I furthered this argument, my safety could be grievously pursed. I glanced at the Professor who was watching my husband with remarkable dislike. It gave me courage.


It was not the human thing to do. Aries was my horse, therefore my responsibility. You couldn't even wait for me to say goodbye, I said, tone sounding quivering besides his.


Lourdes, I have purchased a magnificent Arabian stallion in return. It's a marvelous horse, a female this time, just what you expressed that you had wanted. Look, if you don't like this horse, you may buy another. Aries was old and blind, not to mention rheumatic. I've already made a decision, he said, the finality of his tone settling like lead in the air.


It wasn't yours to make, I said, wretchedly miserable. The Professor rose, intending to leave a very tentative situation, but Lucius whirled around, Stay Severus, see how I discipline my beasts.


I turned away from him, feet barely able to support me, the switch in my hand so temptingly coiled like a lovely, leather noose. Lucius could have used colour in his face, even if it was gained through strangulation.


I didn't hear him come from behind me, but Lucius gripped my arm and forced me to stand in front of him. His blonde hair was blown in my direction. You will never disregard what I say, he whispered fiercely enough for the sound to echo in the dining hall. Peripherally, the Professor shifted in his seat, hands twisted around a knife.


Let me go, I spat at him, and he raised his hand and slapped me. His rings collided with the skin of my face, and my eyes rolled back in my head. I slipped tot he floor, an ache beginning from the back of my head, then coursing towards my sight. I felt my nose start to bleed, and another blow was delivered to my other cheek. I heard Lucius' boots stride swiftly out the hall, the door slamming behind him.


I remained on the floor, stiffly seated. I didn't open my eyes, and primly cupped my fingers to my nose. Pride would not permit me to ask the Professor for help. I heard chair feet being scraped against the floor, and the Professor rise in a charcoal blur.


I opened my eyes, blinking away darts of pain and the hazy focus. The switch was still in my hand, and I threw it away, far as I could. I wanted to curl up into the woolen thickness of the rug and weep. I suddenly smelt a breeze of lavender and the musky scent of expensive shoe leather.


A bone white hand was outstretched to me, a proffered support. I took it tentatively, my fingers briefly scraping against his palm. His face was impassive, though there seemed to be heightened color in his cadaverous cheeks. Our hands remained linked for seconds after I had stood up, and I felt a tug of need that forced me to cling to him.


Does he always treat you like that?, the Professor sounded bored. I looked uneasily away.


Forgive my husband, Professor, he's been rather busy and lack of sleep has forced him to act...., I couldn't quite pick an adjective that would be both appropriate and non damaging.


As an aggravated beast?, the Professor's nostrils flared at he said this, and I could detect a glint of ire behind his normally hooded eyes. I flushed and looked at my feet, than at the crop.


Was it you who sent this?, I asked, gesturing towards the leather tangle of tassels. He retrieved it, smoothing out each cord between his fingers.


It was. Your husband forced me to attend the dreadful business of purchasing a horse. I thought it would be highly appropriate. I am sorry that it had reduced things to this, he said, and for a second, I almost believed him. There was an oddly muted pain as he said this. You're still bleeding, he pointed out. I raised a finger to my nose, and found freshly painted scarlet gild my hand.


Am I? I didn't notice, I said absently, and reached for a napkin on the table. He grabbed my hand, and undid the black wrap that he had placed there only a few nights before. He brought it to my face, dabbing more gently than I ever would have dared believe.


He knew what I was thinking, he must have, for his hand dropped stiffly to his side. Leave it under your nose. The bleeding will cease, he said in a formally clinical way. I nodded, and felt the black cloth grow warm with the heavy weight of my excretion. It stopped, as he had predicted, and I took a seat at the table.


I'm sorry you had to see that, Professor, I said, half apologetically, half out of habit. Lucius must have cared little for the Professor, for he usually kept his anger tethered until all company was out of sight.


Why should you apologise? Is it not your husband that's beating you?, he said snappishly, I tire of your incessant display of perfect manners. It's sickly and ridiculous, standing there, bowing and curtseying as your husband batters you senseless.


I felt reduced to the bashful pupil I was, drab and mousy in her over large tunic.


Why do you let your husband treat you as thus?, he asked me, eyes surveying my reaction critically. I blanched, for no one had dared openly criticise Lucius in his own domicile.


I believe, Professor, you have overstepped your boundaries, I said cooly, picking up a knife and running my finger lightly over the sharp end. He frowned a bit, then smiled malevolently.


I see. The very pious and very discreet wife who will keep her silence. A very wise investment, Lucius has made in you, Miss Bavarde, for I perceive a woman who keeps a very tight hold on her fortunes. Or am I mistaken, is this actually love that I have witnessed today?, he sneered. I shuddered, and rose stiffly, wishing I could take the knife and bury it in his throat.


And now she runs, see her trot to her little room and dress up, an over grown plaything for an overgrown boy to toy with. See her dress in baubles that drown her and clothing that was made to restrict her. I see your husband chooses to dress you, not yourself, he mused. My mouth refused to unglue itself, for my ears strained for him to finish. I hated him so much, yet his burning enigma rooted me.


He rose as well, robes hanging about him like limply ornamental banners. He crossed to me, arms enfolded in one another, a never ending knot of black linen. He leaned forwards, brushing my hair from my ear with a white finger. Go back to your room now, little princess, and play about your morbid castle. Soon you shall see the road to hell is paved in gold, he whispered, his hot breath warming the back of my neck. I felt him smell me, and I was drawn to him, inexorably extracting myself from his tentacular voice.


He grabbed my wrist again, seeming to know exactly where Lucius had also bruised me. I winced as he dragged me to him, not wanting to know what he was going to do with me, but with a very poignant need for him. I didn't want to see his eyes lock upon mine, nor his mind feast upon my reaction to his truisms, but my eyes met his without hesitation.


His convulsing, strangely two dimensional lips were nearly level with my own, his eyes closed in meditative arousal. I felt something hard prod me between my legs, and was disgusted with myself for mewing. He opened his own eyes, and I saw darkly laughter there, trickling out in cobalt tears of mirth.


He shoved the whip into my hand, Learn some self discipline, girl.













A/N: Ok, ok, so this wasn't supposed to be humorous, but you didn't seriously think I would allow them to do the dirty so early on, do you? Honestly, people! Anyway, I seem to be getting no reviews whatsofuckingever, and I would truly appreciate them!