Title: Twisted Fate
Author: Lupusdragon
Author's email: lupusdragon06hotmail.com
Rating: R
Pairing: Strongly implied Harry/Lucius
Summery: Voldemort falls and Harry becomes the new Dark Lord, but Lucius loves his new Master
Warnings: Apparently this is a much darker fic than I originally thought, at least according to Chibi. There is lots of torture, death, blood, mutilation, and other things of a dark nature. Consider yourself warned.
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Harry Potter. Only this perversion of a plot is my own.
Archive: Certainly. I will not say no, just let me know when you do. That goes for anything of mine.
Tears. Pain. Fear.
Tears. There was no hope, no Boy Who Would Save Them All. There was only darkness and despair. Oh yes, Voldemort had been defeat, dead at the hands of Harry Potter. That alone should have been cause for rejoice, celebration for days on end. Little had anyone known that what the price would be; perhaps things would have been different if someone had seen the pain and cared. But it was not to be. Voldemort was dead and after him followed Dumbledore. With no one to stand in his way, Harry Potter became the uncontested ruler of the Wizarding World.
Pain. There were a few, at first who defied him, those completely loyal to the former Headmaster of Hogwarts, those who could not see how truly manipulative and self-serving the old man had been. They were the first to fall, many of the Order of the Phoenix, those who had professed themselves to be Harry's friends, his allies. Those who had not died in battle claimed that he was betraying those who had. They did not make their claims for long. Any witch or wizard who dared to speak against the new Lord soon found her or himself unable to speak at all. For many the condition was permanent, tongues cut out, mouths sewn closed. For the few foolhardy Phoenixes still alive after the last battle who tried to act against the new Lord, death was the only punishment.
Fear. Now there were none left who would, or could, defy the man who had been Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived, ironically, was dead, dead in spirit, although the body lived on. The government was authoritarian, the Ministry a farce. Punishment for law breaking was swift and fierce, though none could deny that it was fair. Everyone tread carefully for fear of displeasing their Lord.
It came as no great shock to the Dark Lord that his former enemies had become his first allies. When he had defeated Tom Riddle, once and for all proving himself the more powerful wizard, the Death Eaters quickly turned, showing their true Slytherin colours. Lucius had seen the change in the young man, he imagined there had been light forced from the youthful body as the darkness enveloped his aura. Very few of the Death Eaters had actually hated the boy for himself, the rest were simply following orders of the current most powerful Dark Wizard. The former were quickly dealt with after the Fall and the latter were the first to bow before the new Dark Lord. Of course, turncoats are never trusted completely, but the Lord never trusted anyone anymore, not after he was betrayed repeatedly by those he had trusted in his pervious life. Now his trust did not come as easily. The Followers had to prove themselves worthy, not by any means as malicious as Voldemort's, but there were ways.
Surprisingly enough, Severus Snape had been the first who joined the new Lord unquestioningly. It seemed he had been waiting for Harry Potter to finally realize his place in the world, a position that would have been denied him by all of those kind-hearted complacent idiots who had attempted to control his life. Severus had taught his student what he could, prayed to all of the Ancient Ones that it was enough, and then stood by the young man through the Fall and during the Rebirth. He was also the first to have the old dark mark wiped away and replaced by the new Mark. Despite their history, Severus was not initiated untested; life had harshly shoved that lesson down the Lord's throat. Lucius remembered the glory of that day with almost as much fondness as he remembered his own Initiation.
Generally the new Lord refrained from having his Followers wipe out entire families of hapless muggles, preferring to systematically destroy the opposition. For Severus' test, however, he made an exception. The former professor had the privilege of eliminating Harry's foster family. After having the three most horrible muggles abducted and brought to the restored Potter Manor, Severus was instructed to kill the walrus and the whale in any way he felt necessary. Lucius had never seen Severus so gleeful as when he cast a disembowelling curse on both father and son. The look, he noted, was an improvement for both. The horse-woman was permitted to live on the virtue of being the sister of the Lord's own mother. The vile creature was ordered to find a new husband and start a new life. In his mercy, which was sometimes too great for his own well-being, the Lord promised her a potion should she desire to have another child and be unable to produce one. All of the followers knew the potion, commonly used with families in which one or more children were born squibs, was nearly guaranteed to create a magical child. That would be her true punishment.
Lucius remembered his own test with great deal of pride. His Lord had brought forth both his wife and son, ordering Lucius to murder Narcissa, without magic, in Draco's, and his Lord's, presence. The foolish woman had been traitorous to the new regime and, in order to prove his loyalty, Lucius was given the honour of silencing the traitor. The task was done with relish. Using magic would have made her death seem less real and the former Death Eater revelled in the feel of cold steal in his hand pressed against the warm flesh of his ex-wife, the spill of hot blood, staining his pale skin. His Lord had been pleased with him, and, as a reward, he was permitted to give his son the Mark, a snake wrapped around the neck of a lion. Draco had rashly fought against the new Lord, but Lucius was a good Follower and his Lord let him keep his son and heir so long as the boy learned his place, which the former Death Eater happily taught him.
For Lucius, the new Regime was the most wonderful time the world had ever seen. True, his Lord was harsh and cruel, but he was just, and sane, a vast improvement from the last dark lord. His Lord loved him, cherished him in a way that the old lord did not. Lucius loved the rewards he was given when he was good and he loved even more the punishments he received when he was naughty.
Leather and steel biting into his creamy skin, marking him as his Master's, each pale pink line was a badge of honour, a gift from his Lord. Cold iron cut into his writs as he was chained to the wall, to the ceiling, to the bed. His body was his Lord's living parchment. New spells would be cut delicately, surgically into his flesh along side the three letters that always made Lucius smile, even through the pain, HJP.
So many marks, and Lucius loved each. They did not mar or destroy is soft skin, but decorate and enhance it. Lucius loved when his Master ran blunt fingernails down each mark. Hot swipes with his tongue on each puckered mark brought shivers to the man's body. Most of the marks were old, as he had not needed punishment for some time. He may have loved the marks and the leather and steel and iron, but Lucius never intentionally displeased his Lord. To do that would have brought upon the Bad Punishment, the punishment reserved for those who broke the Law.
Lucius always wanted to please his Lord, for when his Lord was happy, there would be rewards for his followers. Lucius loved his special rewards, the ones that were for him and only him. He loved the stretch, the burn, the filling. He loved the pressure, the way the tears came to his eyes, the choking. He loved his Lord's body and how his Lord used his body. He loved to bring his Master pleasure, to have his Master thrusting into him, making him hurt and making him feel good. Lucius was his Master's toy, and his Master loved to play rough. Sometimes he would be chained to his Lord's bed for days, naked and open and wanting. It was his favourite reward.
Once, though, his Lord used it as a punishment. Lucius had been very naughty and his Lord had left him chained to the bed for two weeks while he went away on business. A house elf brought him water only once a day for the entire two weeks, and he was never allowed off the bed. When his Lord returned, Lucius had been laying in his faeces and urine, blood crusted where it had dried to his writs and ankles under the iron cuffs. Sores oozed on his back from constantly rubbing against the bedding. He had been emaciated, cold and hungry and his lord had taken him into his arms, explaining the reasons for the punishment and asking Lucius if he would be a good boy now. Lucius had readily agreed and his Master had cleaned him, dressed him, and fed him. Never again had his Lord used a Bad Punishment on him. After that Lucius never intentionally displeased his master and now his punishments were all leather and steel and iron that quickly turned to blunt nails and hot tongue and hard cock.
Lucius could not be happier, when his Master's voice whispered words into his ears and his Master's body filled him and his Master's hands marked him. It was what he craved, what he begged for, what he needed. The smooth motion of their bodies as they moved against each other, the hand tugging harshly on his aching need, making him whimper and beg and plead and oh gods yes Master! A sharp sting, a tearing thrust, and a painful twist and he was coming, and coming so hard, the good little whore for his Master. And Master would heal his wounds and kiss him on the forehead and he would curl up at the foot of his Lord's bed and fall into a contented sleep.
For Lucius, the new Regime was the most wonderful time the world had ever seen.
Author: Lupusdragon
Author's email: lupusdragon06hotmail.com
Rating: R
Pairing: Strongly implied Harry/Lucius
Summery: Voldemort falls and Harry becomes the new Dark Lord, but Lucius loves his new Master
Warnings: Apparently this is a much darker fic than I originally thought, at least according to Chibi. There is lots of torture, death, blood, mutilation, and other things of a dark nature. Consider yourself warned.
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Harry Potter. Only this perversion of a plot is my own.
Archive: Certainly. I will not say no, just let me know when you do. That goes for anything of mine.
Tears. Pain. Fear.
Tears. There was no hope, no Boy Who Would Save Them All. There was only darkness and despair. Oh yes, Voldemort had been defeat, dead at the hands of Harry Potter. That alone should have been cause for rejoice, celebration for days on end. Little had anyone known that what the price would be; perhaps things would have been different if someone had seen the pain and cared. But it was not to be. Voldemort was dead and after him followed Dumbledore. With no one to stand in his way, Harry Potter became the uncontested ruler of the Wizarding World.
Pain. There were a few, at first who defied him, those completely loyal to the former Headmaster of Hogwarts, those who could not see how truly manipulative and self-serving the old man had been. They were the first to fall, many of the Order of the Phoenix, those who had professed themselves to be Harry's friends, his allies. Those who had not died in battle claimed that he was betraying those who had. They did not make their claims for long. Any witch or wizard who dared to speak against the new Lord soon found her or himself unable to speak at all. For many the condition was permanent, tongues cut out, mouths sewn closed. For the few foolhardy Phoenixes still alive after the last battle who tried to act against the new Lord, death was the only punishment.
Fear. Now there were none left who would, or could, defy the man who had been Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived, ironically, was dead, dead in spirit, although the body lived on. The government was authoritarian, the Ministry a farce. Punishment for law breaking was swift and fierce, though none could deny that it was fair. Everyone tread carefully for fear of displeasing their Lord.
It came as no great shock to the Dark Lord that his former enemies had become his first allies. When he had defeated Tom Riddle, once and for all proving himself the more powerful wizard, the Death Eaters quickly turned, showing their true Slytherin colours. Lucius had seen the change in the young man, he imagined there had been light forced from the youthful body as the darkness enveloped his aura. Very few of the Death Eaters had actually hated the boy for himself, the rest were simply following orders of the current most powerful Dark Wizard. The former were quickly dealt with after the Fall and the latter were the first to bow before the new Dark Lord. Of course, turncoats are never trusted completely, but the Lord never trusted anyone anymore, not after he was betrayed repeatedly by those he had trusted in his pervious life. Now his trust did not come as easily. The Followers had to prove themselves worthy, not by any means as malicious as Voldemort's, but there were ways.
Surprisingly enough, Severus Snape had been the first who joined the new Lord unquestioningly. It seemed he had been waiting for Harry Potter to finally realize his place in the world, a position that would have been denied him by all of those kind-hearted complacent idiots who had attempted to control his life. Severus had taught his student what he could, prayed to all of the Ancient Ones that it was enough, and then stood by the young man through the Fall and during the Rebirth. He was also the first to have the old dark mark wiped away and replaced by the new Mark. Despite their history, Severus was not initiated untested; life had harshly shoved that lesson down the Lord's throat. Lucius remembered the glory of that day with almost as much fondness as he remembered his own Initiation.
Generally the new Lord refrained from having his Followers wipe out entire families of hapless muggles, preferring to systematically destroy the opposition. For Severus' test, however, he made an exception. The former professor had the privilege of eliminating Harry's foster family. After having the three most horrible muggles abducted and brought to the restored Potter Manor, Severus was instructed to kill the walrus and the whale in any way he felt necessary. Lucius had never seen Severus so gleeful as when he cast a disembowelling curse on both father and son. The look, he noted, was an improvement for both. The horse-woman was permitted to live on the virtue of being the sister of the Lord's own mother. The vile creature was ordered to find a new husband and start a new life. In his mercy, which was sometimes too great for his own well-being, the Lord promised her a potion should she desire to have another child and be unable to produce one. All of the followers knew the potion, commonly used with families in which one or more children were born squibs, was nearly guaranteed to create a magical child. That would be her true punishment.
Lucius remembered his own test with great deal of pride. His Lord had brought forth both his wife and son, ordering Lucius to murder Narcissa, without magic, in Draco's, and his Lord's, presence. The foolish woman had been traitorous to the new regime and, in order to prove his loyalty, Lucius was given the honour of silencing the traitor. The task was done with relish. Using magic would have made her death seem less real and the former Death Eater revelled in the feel of cold steal in his hand pressed against the warm flesh of his ex-wife, the spill of hot blood, staining his pale skin. His Lord had been pleased with him, and, as a reward, he was permitted to give his son the Mark, a snake wrapped around the neck of a lion. Draco had rashly fought against the new Lord, but Lucius was a good Follower and his Lord let him keep his son and heir so long as the boy learned his place, which the former Death Eater happily taught him.
For Lucius, the new Regime was the most wonderful time the world had ever seen. True, his Lord was harsh and cruel, but he was just, and sane, a vast improvement from the last dark lord. His Lord loved him, cherished him in a way that the old lord did not. Lucius loved the rewards he was given when he was good and he loved even more the punishments he received when he was naughty.
Leather and steel biting into his creamy skin, marking him as his Master's, each pale pink line was a badge of honour, a gift from his Lord. Cold iron cut into his writs as he was chained to the wall, to the ceiling, to the bed. His body was his Lord's living parchment. New spells would be cut delicately, surgically into his flesh along side the three letters that always made Lucius smile, even through the pain, HJP.
So many marks, and Lucius loved each. They did not mar or destroy is soft skin, but decorate and enhance it. Lucius loved when his Master ran blunt fingernails down each mark. Hot swipes with his tongue on each puckered mark brought shivers to the man's body. Most of the marks were old, as he had not needed punishment for some time. He may have loved the marks and the leather and steel and iron, but Lucius never intentionally displeased his Lord. To do that would have brought upon the Bad Punishment, the punishment reserved for those who broke the Law.
Lucius always wanted to please his Lord, for when his Lord was happy, there would be rewards for his followers. Lucius loved his special rewards, the ones that were for him and only him. He loved the stretch, the burn, the filling. He loved the pressure, the way the tears came to his eyes, the choking. He loved his Lord's body and how his Lord used his body. He loved to bring his Master pleasure, to have his Master thrusting into him, making him hurt and making him feel good. Lucius was his Master's toy, and his Master loved to play rough. Sometimes he would be chained to his Lord's bed for days, naked and open and wanting. It was his favourite reward.
Once, though, his Lord used it as a punishment. Lucius had been very naughty and his Lord had left him chained to the bed for two weeks while he went away on business. A house elf brought him water only once a day for the entire two weeks, and he was never allowed off the bed. When his Lord returned, Lucius had been laying in his faeces and urine, blood crusted where it had dried to his writs and ankles under the iron cuffs. Sores oozed on his back from constantly rubbing against the bedding. He had been emaciated, cold and hungry and his lord had taken him into his arms, explaining the reasons for the punishment and asking Lucius if he would be a good boy now. Lucius had readily agreed and his Master had cleaned him, dressed him, and fed him. Never again had his Lord used a Bad Punishment on him. After that Lucius never intentionally displeased his master and now his punishments were all leather and steel and iron that quickly turned to blunt nails and hot tongue and hard cock.
Lucius could not be happier, when his Master's voice whispered words into his ears and his Master's body filled him and his Master's hands marked him. It was what he craved, what he begged for, what he needed. The smooth motion of their bodies as they moved against each other, the hand tugging harshly on his aching need, making him whimper and beg and plead and oh gods yes Master! A sharp sting, a tearing thrust, and a painful twist and he was coming, and coming so hard, the good little whore for his Master. And Master would heal his wounds and kiss him on the forehead and he would curl up at the foot of his Lord's bed and fall into a contented sleep.
For Lucius, the new Regime was the most wonderful time the world had ever seen.