A/N: Took a couple weeks, but I did finally get the invite for an ao3 account! (Never used it before have actually been on FF since I was a kid haha) I have taken the advice and am now cross posting there too- same username. I also have a tumblr page created under the same username for odds and ends when it comes to my fics. Graphics, mood boards, and eventually playlists for stories. I have a yet to be posted fic that will be eventually posted, but I want to write a hefty bit of it first before posting. It allows me more time to focus on this story and it just be a backburner item. Eventually, this will be part of a series (unrelated in plot just theme) of supernatural creature themed HP fics, the backburner one being a little...hairy ;) also a Severus/Hermione fic for anyone who likes that pairing too. Now onto the new chapter! It gets a little graphic in terms of violence here in the beginning/middle so just be warned there is some brutality, it sort of starts to show why Lucius is so much more defeated currently, he's been through a lot since he turned. And in good theming, the song I put on repeat while writing this one is Defeat by Hyde. Enjoy!
Chapter 10 / The More I Die
It happened on the day when the first frost hardened across the earth for the season. The trees were already long shorn of their leaves and rattled their bare bones against the strong winds coming from the east. He stood alone in his study looking out across the barren yard with his cup of tea growing as bitter as the air outside. A screeching was echoing through the room without phasing him; the sharp whistle of the wind forcing its way in through the crack in the window he'd left open. He involuntarily shivered through the length of his spine as the brisk air wrapped around his throat like a vice. It would be all too soon that he would know how this coldness truly felt. How it would feel to let it move into his body and settle inside of his skin like it belonged there. To let it possess him like nothing ever before. He'd read enough of the literature in their extensive libraries to know what he could likely expect from the transformation. Largely, the texts were mostly about just that, the transformation. Second hand experience from those who'd seen transformations and only a scant few copies of first hand experiences from daring journalists who faced the danger head on for the academic knowledge in it all. He thought he could perhaps find it reassuring to know what to expect but in truth it only made him more nervous to know. It meant that every hour, every minute, and every second before was filled only with thoughts of the pain and burning that would soon wrack his muscles and set his veins aflame. Even worse was knowing that there were more detailed and extensive journals within their personal family collections, but he couldn't bring himself to read those.
When he first saw them as a child he curiously reached out and poked the binding of the books as they sat drying on his fathers desk. His stomach churned as he felt the still slick but icy cold texture and withdrew as soon as he realized the binding was not the usual animal leather that his father preferred to use. The color was all wrong and the skin had all too familiar pores with fine downy vellus hair. With a jolt he'd ran to the nearest trash can and had to face his lunch once more much to his distress. The skin was from a person. Human skin. Though that was not what his father called it. Monster skin was what he called it. Skinned and peeled off of the vampires that he kept locked in the dungeons, a generational gift from his own father, a scientist of the cruelest sorts. Butcher was more accurate in Lucius's own words. Though his father didn't discriminate against just one sort. He'd held a litany of different magical creatures within their secret dungeons. A very well varied butcher, master of his craft. As he stood stock-still in front of the chilling wind he brushed his fingers along his own arm skin, feeling his own thick blonde hairs, wondering if his skin would feel just like those books. As he tightened against the wind his fingers stayed caressing his arm and he wondered if he'd end up another man's fodder locked away for twisted experiments just like the creatures his father experimented on. His spine locked straight and as tight as a violin string for he knew if he did, he couldn't fault the heavens for it. Another generational gift he couldn't return.
Of course, the first night he was tossed into the dungeons he knew that the heavens were indeed a cruel mistress. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to rage, he wanted to cry. But all he could do was sit in the deafening silence as the venom worked its way through his body. Burning through every living cell and leaving death in its wake as his heartbeat thumped in increasing speed. As his body collapsed in on itself and his will left him he fell backwards into the anguish hoping only to feel relief. It didn't reach him for hours. Hours of panting and sweating and writhing in the dirt. His throat screamed out in scorching pain, raw from his endless howls. Too weak to keep fighting he didn't even care after the first few hours if he didn't wake back up after it ended. Real death would be bliss when compared to this horror. His eyes began to swim with stinging biting tears and he wept finally as his muscles loosened and his lungs drew in their final shaking breaths. Death swarmed his seizing thoughts like a vulture, poised and ready to swoop down when the spasms would finally stop leaving his mind blank and defenseless. That was the moment when he first heard his creator's voice. His own vulturous reaper that wanted to collect only his humanity instead of release him into peace. Through the pounding of his heart in his ears he heard him beckon out to him as he walked across the floor towards him. With his vision still blurry he couldn't make out his face but he knew it was him from the hair. Wild and unruly curly ebony black hair that fell around him like a porcelain doll. The moment when he first bit him, before he was thrown into this prison, he knew in his heart he had to be a Black. His eyes held a terrifying stillness that he'd seen only in one other person, Bellatrix. They were completely devoid of anything behind their eyes. Purely predatory eyes that stared through you like you were nothing.
Those same haunting eyes were what brought Lucius back from his reverie as Arcturus's roaring laughter subsided and his hands removed their shaking grasp on the door to his cell. But his eyes, they still looked through him as though they could shred him apart without a second glance. Unlike Lucius's darkened crimson eyes, Arcturus's eyes were nearly white, milky and nearly constantly weeping looking, separated from his sclera only by a thin emerald ring. The venom in his veins was constantly seeping from his body, even coming through his pores like a toxic defense system. His presence alone commanded fear, an illicit bodily response to who he was. Lucius knew not if it was because he was his maker or if it was because of what he was capable of. Either way, he wasn't keen to find out after already being well aware of the methods Arcturus preferred when it came to torture. He subconsciously slipped a hand beneath his shirt to touch upon a scar along his ribs from one side clear to the other, never breaking eye contact with the monster at his door. Arcturus's eyes followed the motion of Lucius's hand, his grin growing inhumanely larger.
"Do you still remember how it felt, my dear Lucius? Do you remember how it felt when I reached my hand up inside your chest and stroked your heart with my hand? I will remember it forever. You were so close to death and I could feel your heart pounding in my hand. I nearly thought we'd lose you before the venom would have a chance to turn you. There was just so much blood everywhere and your scent, my gods, it was filling me. My whole arm just drenched in that beautiful blood as it dragged up against all your ribs. We were one in that moment, you and me. You are without a doubt my favorite creation."
His mouth was salivating and his grotesque blackened tongue darted out to trace his lips, recalling in vivid details the events he talked about. Lucius faltered, begging his mind to not give in and not recall the memory to the forefront. He knew there was no way he could handle it, not now, not like this. Dancing around why he was here would do him no good and so he pushed through the churning in his desperately empty stomach.
"Why are you here? What could you possibly want from me still?"
He didn't mean to sound so scared but it still cracked through with his world crumbling beneath him. Months he'd gone without seeing the beast. Nearly two years he'd found this hell a solace at least from this. His senses heightened beyond the stratosphere when he went too long without feeding and he was nearing overdue fast the past few days already. He could hear the hearts of every rat between the floorboards above them, he could hear the venom pooling inside of Arcturus's cheeks, he could hear the shallow and terrified breaths of Hermione in the farthest corner she could reach. It was so enormously overwhelming and his bravado felt so little when in the limelight of finally staring down his demons once more.
"What is a god without his favorite son, Lucius?"
His vicious smile curled ever so delightfully every time he purred Lucius's name and it ran through Lucius like a dagger. Choosing his moment perfectly he reached wordlessly and opened the door to the cell making his way deliberate and slowly into the room. Refusing to cave, Lucius held his ground and stood in the center of the darkened room, still instinctively holding his side as if worried he'd feel the claws under his skin again.
"You are not a god and I am not your son. Last I knew of, I didn't even belong to you. I am still a prisoner to the dark lord."
Holding strong his proud Malfoy posture he remained bracing himself for the impact he knew was coming soon. He knew it wasn't above the dark lord to sell him off to the highest bidder, but he also knew it wasn't likely he'd hand him off to another powerful person. Not when it could fill ranks out that could be used against him. He was too much of a strategist for that. A weapon in another's hands is still a weapon and he couldn't risk being on the losing end when already engaged in a tedious battle. There had to be an angle that he was playing, some end game that only he knew. That's the kind of person Arcturus was, the picture perfect traditional Slytherin created in Salazar's own image.
"No…you are right. I do not own you. Not yet. All good things come to those who wait however. And I am waiting for you. Do you see that waning half moon just breaching the trees beyond these bars? When that moon turns full again I will return. And you will be mine."
He'd crossed the room now and stood flesh against Lucius, tracing his head along the dip in Lucius's neck, sniffing his skin, pressing his body just barely against his. Rationally, Lucius knew he was not nearly strong enough even when freshly fed to stand a chance alone against him, but he wanted to lash out so badly. Arcturus stood nearly 6 inches taller than him, leaving him feeling prone as he sized him up. He knew it was a power play as it always had been with him, but he also knew there have to be times when you bite your tongue for the better outcome. Calculate every possible outcome before you get too deep and can't win, something he'd learned the hard way too many times.
"I will never be yours again because I was never yours to begin with."
Lucius leaned down and whispered in his ear, his tone dripping with malice and his eyes staring straight at the wall, picturing Hermione on the other side. He hoped he could convey even a fraction of the same valor he'd see her go through time and time again since he came here. He knew he had to stop letting others push him back into corners he never wanted to return to again. Arcturus grew still and gave no reply, much to Lucius's surprise. He'd expected a backlash or a witty biting comment about how foolish he was. It had been long enough that he'd forgotten that there was a limit to the things he could say before they were no longer treated as amusing. In one swift movement faster than the blink of a human eye Arcturus had thrust his hand forward and slammed his hand against the scar on Lucius's torso and ran him brutally against the wall behind them. His thin diamond hard claws dug into Lucius's skin drawing venomous blood to the surface piercing through him with ease. With his talons squirming against the inside of Lucius's skin he reached back his other hand to hold Lucius's face squarely towards him, staring directly into his eyes.
"That's what they all say at first, you know. You're not being clever nor brave. I have broken stronger men than you, physically and mentally. You would do well to remember what I can do to you or…"
His weeping eyes pointedly looked towards the wall dividing the rooms with the implication quite clear. His eyes shifting back towards Lucius he dug his nails in deeper yet with the hand on his torso causing him to silently scream against the agony. He would not allow himself to verbally make any sounds, both to deny Arcturus the pleasure he knew he got from it and to keep from further scaring Hermione.
"If you want, we can take her with you. It can be a gift for your new life, our new life. It's been so long since I had a proper clan. Think of the things we can accomplish. Once you learn to use your full potential we can be unstoppable even against these weak pathetic beings here. Just think about it. Just think about it until I return. And I promise you, I will return."
Withdrawing his nails from the holes they'd embedded in Lucius's skin he reached up to cradle his face with both hands, leaving smears of blood across his one cheek as he stroked it. Play his game, play his game, play his game. Lucius mentally repeated the mantra to himself to keep from lashing out again. It was the only chance he had to protect both of them and have a chance to get them both away if they couldn't escape by the time the full moon returned. It was always mind games with these arrogant kinds of bastards and he had the practice to make the gamble on it. Arcturus retreated, walking backwards still staring Lucius dead in the eyes and licking the blood off of his fingers, making theatrically obscene faces to antagonize him as he did so. Soon he was gone, returning to his inhuman speed once past the door, but still remembering to lock it before he went. All of the frantic energy built up inside of Lucius immediately drained and he collapsed to his knees. Tenderly reaching out to this side he felt the icy blood still seeping from his wounds and through his shirt. He didn't have nearly enough energy left to heal at his normal speed. Crawling towards the wall with his limbs shaking he called out to her.
"Her…mione…I don't want to ask but I can't. I can't heal. I am dwindling. Could…"
His eyes were starting to blur and fade before him. The world was turning in on itself to swallow him up whole. He'd done so well every other time to sit and hold onto his energy from his feedings as long as he could, in case they ever skipped his meals, but this time he'd burned through it too fast and it wasn't sustaining him anymore. Though he knew he couldn't die, if he lost his consciousness for any length of time it put them in jeopardy against both of their tormentors. Every little inaction setting off a larger action and feeding into the vicious loop they lived constrained inside of. Small deaths again and again of tiny pieces of their souls. As he started to fade out he curled against the wall willing himself to speak but nothing was coming. His lips simply pantomiming the thoughts for an unseen audience. Something was tickling his hyper-tuned ears but he was too out of it to comprehend that it was the sounds of the dirt being desperately dug up between them. When the dark came to take him it greeted him with a familiar lovely smell.
Bulgarian roses and lilacs.