For the disclaimer, see Prologue.
WARNING: BDSM. This chapter contains descriptions of sexual practices some of you may find disturbing.
Chapter One: The Announcement
Mirage walked the dimly lit corridors with ease and familiarity. Master was calling, Mirage knew, and so it was answering to the call. When the big double door was finally in front of it, Mirage pulled down the blindfold to hide its beautiful green eyes from sight and opened it. Mirage could feel many pairs of eyes turn to it as it walked confidently to its Master's side. As its hips swayed, the high heels of the boots it wore were the only sound loud enough to truly break the silence.
"Ah, Mirage, my baby, you look delectable tonight," said Master. Mirage's cheeks flushed in pleasure at the compliment.
Upon reaching the stone platform, Mirage approached its Master's throne and knelt beside it, opening its legs wide and throwing its arms behind itself, leaning on its open hands. Somewhere behind it, someone gasped.
"Such a good boy," murmured Voldemort as he began petting the teen's raven-black hair.
Purring low in its throat, Mirage threw its head back to better expose its leather choker, thinking Master might want to chain him.
Voldemort took a moment to admire the creature's beauty and then leant towards it, letting a forked black tongue come out of his mouth to taste its scent. Delicious. Always so enticing… He allowed himself to close his eyes to better savour the taste. With an appreciative hum, the Dark Lord reached out with both hands and removed Mirage's blindfold to expose its vibrant pair of gleaming green eyes.
"Do you know why I've called you tonight, Mirage?" asked Voldemort. He watched the slave as he spoke, but his voice was loud enough that everyone could hear.
"This one does not know, Master," answered Mirage truthfully.
"The time has come, my brethren," said the Master, addressing the crowd of black-robed figures before them. "The remaining muggle population of Britain has been driven to isolation and we have taken the place that is rightfully ours.
"For centuries, Our Greater Kind was persecuted, forced to live the lives of outcast― but no more! Wizarding Britain now knows the true Way of Life!" here the Dark Lord paused, letting the Death Eaters voice their agreement. "Over the years, those who opposed our ideals have begun seeing the error in their ways, and now the sun shines over a new, free Kingdom in which we can be ourselves without hiding, without fear!" the robed figures applauded and shouted in agreement, in relief. "The future is bright, brothers and sisters," promised Voldemort. "Thanks to our example, powerful nations such as Germany, France, Sweden and the Netherlands are now working on their own liberation. Soon enough, Europe will be exclusively inhabited by the Wizarding Kind!" as the cheering died down; the leader adopted a grim expression and continued in an affected tone of voice: "It is because of this changes that we must take action to counter those who dare raise their wands against their own Kind in defence of the lesser.
"Dumbledore has transformed our most valuable institution, our children's haven, into a seedbed for slander. How are we to progress when those that teach the youth fill their heads with lies and fear?"
"Hogwarts must fall!" shouted someone. Murmurs of agreement were heard.
"Kill Dumbledore!" demanded another Death Eater.
"Indeed," agreed Voldemort. "And so it shall be. I have given this matter thought over long days and longer nights," he said. "Because, of course, we do not want our children to suffer in the name of the few remaining rebels, do we?" angry murmurs were the response. "So this is what I have conceived: I will send mine own most faithful, beloved servant to Hogwarts on the pretence of being a student to help me break it from the inside.
"Let our children see that we are the good ones through the example of one of our own!"
"Who will be given this great task, My Lord?" asked one of the Death Eaters in the front row.
"Who indeed?" mused the Dark Lord in a stage whisper.
Some hands rose amongst the crowd. Shouts of "I volunteer!" and "I will, My Lord!" were heard.
"Let me do your bidding, Master!" squealed Bellatrix, louder than anyone else.
"Ah, Bella," said Voldemort pleasantly, tugging at his slave's scalp. "You will have your orders, of course, as becomes your honoured position, but not this time."
The woman deflated a bit and put down her arm.
"Severus," called Voldemort. "Come forth."
One of the robed figures stood from his seat and stepped forward with an ominous stride. He took off his bone mask and bowed before the Dark Lord.
"Do you know who this man is, Mirage?" Voldemort asked his pet, who had been kneeling patiently all through its Master's speech.
"This one has seen him, Master. Master has permitted this man to touch me."
"Yes. You are such a good pet, Mirage. What's his name?"
"Master calls this man Severus Snape."
"Good, good," praised Voldemort, scratching behind Mirage's ears. "What does Severus do when he is not in my castle?"
Mirage flushed red and lowered its head.
"This one does not know, Master," it murmured sorrowfully, afraid it had disappointed the man.
"Don't worry, baby," reassured Voldemort gently. "I will tell you: Severus is a potions expert. He teaches the kids at Hogwarts how to correctly brew potions."
Mirage turned to Snape with eyes full of awe. Despite himself, Snape found he was staring. The boy simply looked so edible…
"You do enough already, Severus," Voldemort told him. "But, as I am sure you realize, you will play a main character in this ordeal. We will meet some other time to discuss the particulars. Await my summons. Now, Lucius, come forth."
The tall blond advanced to the dais.
"Hello, my dear Lucius," greeted Voldemort amiably, pleased at perceiving the man's eagerness. "It is my understanding that you have a child around Mirage's age, yes?"
"I do, My Lord," answered Lucius emotionlessly.
"Good. Your child, where is he?"
"Amongst the younger recruits, My Lord."
"Draco, come to me," called Voldemort.
A teenaged boy remarkably similar in appearance to Lucius walked to the platform from the back of the chamber and removed his bone mask.
"You are a beautiful young man, Draco," said the Dark Lord. "Have you met Mirage yet?"
Draco shook his head no.
Humming, Voldemort took a silver chain out of the pocket of his robe and attached it to Mirage's choker. He then stood and walked to the edge of the dais, Mirage crawling with feline sensuousness behind him.
"Here," said Voldemort, offering Draco the chain. Confused, the young Malfoy took it. Behind him, his father gasped. There was silence for a few seconds.
"I don't understand, My Lord," confessed Draco at last.
Laughs erupted all around the chamber.
"Now Lucius," mock-scolded the Dark Lord. "Have you not been teaching young Draco the finer arts of dominance?"
"I'm afraid I haven't, My Lord," choked out Lucius, mortified.
"Mirage," Voldemort addressed his pet. "From now on, Draco may touch you. Draco," he added, turning to the other teen. "You may touch Mirage."
The blond boy raised a hesitant hand, and Mirage stretched sensually to meet it. Steeling himself, Draco dragged his fingers softly through Mirage's scalp, who immediately threw its head back and lifted its arse.
"Good, Draco, that's good," approved Voldemort. "You will get to know Mirage more intimately at a later date," he promised. Voldemort then took the silver chain from the dazed boy's hands and pulled harshly. Mirage approached him obediently to once again take its waiting position: kneeling with the legs open and the arms resting behind to support its weight.
"Mirage will be attending Hogwarts this year as my personal representative," the Dark Lord announced out loud. "Because of its power and unconditional obedience, I have chosen it.
"If anyone amongst you disagrees with this pronouncement, write to me directly and we'll meet in private to discuss the matter."
No one dared say a word.
"Now," continued Voldemort, satisfied. "Before I declare this mass-meeting settled, I'd like to remind those that are still students at Hogwarts to always treat Mirage with nothing but dignity and respect. If you are not sure of what this entails, ask your parents for directions. Also, I expect you to be readily available to aid Mirage if it were to ask for your help, regardless of which House you belong to. Are we clear on this?"
Murmurs of agreement were heard. Voldemort smiled benevolently.
"Unless you have unfinished business, you may retire now," then, turning to Lucius Malfoy he added in a lower voice: "Stay behind."
The Death Eaters were slowly standing and making their exit, some apparating directly, and Voldemort noted in complacency that their numbers were nearing three hundred. He feigned distraction while massaging a sensitive spot in Mirage's neck, who soon began purring contently.
"Lucius," he exclaimed when the chamber was empty but for the three of them. "Do you remember our agreement?"
"I wouldn't forget, My Lord," answered the man coolly.
"Good. Come with me, then."
Voldemort beckoned the man with his free hand and, pulling at Mirage's chain, began walking towards his personal quarters.
"How fares young Draco at Hogwarts?" he inquired conversely.
"Very well," said Lucius. "His marks are extraordinary, and he seems to have some authority and influence amongst his peers."
"That's good to hear," Voldemort paused then, as if measuring his next words. "I'm curious, Lucius, why haven't you taught him the basics of dominance? Is he innocent?"
"I expect he's not, My Lord, but I haven't really asked."
Voldemort clicked his tongue in disapproval.
"No wonder you're always so thrilled at the prospect of doing my slave if you're usually this uptight about intimacy, Lucius," he scolded lightly. "You must give him some instructions, if he is to share a bedroom with my pet. I'm sure they could benefit from one another."
"Certainly, My Lord, I will see to it."
"Good. I don't expect Draco to become a dominant overnight, you understand, but he was clueless today. That spoke disgracefully of the Malfoy House; it shouldn't happen again."
"I agree, My Lord. It is true that I have neglected Draco's… ah, sexual education –shall we call it– but on my favour I'll say it's difficult for me to accept he's already sixteen. It feels like only days have passed since he was riding his first broom through the gardens."
Voldemort smiled a bit.
"I suppose you're right. Mirage is the only child I've seen grow, of course, but the nature of our relationship is quite different from what you have with your son. Or so you've led me to believe," he deadpanned.
"My Lord! I wouldn't ―"
The Dark Lord threw his head back and laughed.
"I'm teasing you, Lucius. He's pretty, I'll say as much, but couldn't hold a flame to my Mirage."
"It is exquisite," agreed Lucius.
"Yes. So here we are, Lucius, come on in," invited the Dark Lord, opening a great carved black door and stepping inside his main sitting room. "Would you like a drink?" he asked, walking towards the bar.
"Yes, thank you, My Lord," Lucius answered, settling at a settee.
"Go keep our guest company, Mirage," ordered Voldemort, taking the chain off its choker. Mirage stood and walked gracefully towards Lucius. Once it had sat beside him, the blond pulled it to him and began fondling the naked skin of its thighs.
"Missed me?" Lucius asked the creature. It snuggled closer to him.
"This one did, sir."
"Careful there, Mirage," warned Voldemort distractedly. "That almost sounded as if Master's rewarding is not enough for you."
"This one is sorry, Master!" cried the creature in embarrassment. "This one did not mean it that way. Master pleases me very much," it assured the blond.
"Often?" queried Lucius with a smirk, gazing at the approaching Dark Lord.
"Don't answer that, pet," forestalled Voldemort while placing a silver tray in front of their visitor. He then sat across from him and began preparing his own drink.
"Absinthe," approved Lucius, placing the spoon and a sugar cube over his goblet. "That was a good speech you gave down there, My Lord," he commented while waiting for Voldemort to finish pouring his spirits. "It sounded as if you had everything under control."
"I do," replied Voldemort, lighting the sugar cube with a tap of his wand. "When I'm done with him, that old fool will beg me for the mercy of the Killing Curse."
"I still find it hard to believe that he'd make public your blood status. That was rather low of him…"
"He's desperate," declared the Dark Lord. "His narrow-mindedness won't allow him to see I'm aiming higher than Slytherin himself," he paused to take a sip of his drink. "I'm not an idiot, Lucius. I know we need the muggles to increase our numbers; blood purity be damned."
"That declaration wouldn't sit well amongst your pure blooded followers, My Lord. I, for one, don't like it one bit."
"I know. It makes no difference for either of us, though. You will marry Draco off to some pure blood witch and I will continue strengthening the magical community worldwide. When everything is said and done, the pure blooded lifestyle will be more prosperous than ever."
"I drink to that," said Lucius, raising his goblet.
They drank in silence for a few minutes.
"And tell me, how's the Ministry doing?" the Dark Lord queried abruptly, leaning back in his seat.
"They're leaving very little out of the Daily Prophet these days, My Lord. You should know most of it. Of course Scrimgeour won't kill himself like Fudge did, but everyone knows he's going mental with the pressure. He will probably resign the post by September."
"Good. Have you considered running for Minister? I've given it some thought, and decided I could use a trustworthy man to take the reins for once."
"I have," admitted Lucius. "Though I wouldn't get my hopes too high; Dumbledore still has enough influence to move the Wizengamot. He's the chief warlock, after all."
"I'm confident Mirage will help me defile his reputation in time. You just have to concentrate on making public appearances and giving some interviews."
"As you say, My Lord."
They lapsed into silence once again.
"About Hogwarts," began Voldemort. "Have you had any news on the Board's decision?"
"Not per se," answered Lucius. "You know I've given my strong opinion on the matter, and I'm quite sure most of them are convinced in our favour. The OWL results were most convenient, naturally, but they're rather hesitant about admitting a creature* into the student body."
"Has Dumbledore interfered again?"
"It may surprise you, My Lord, but he hasn't."
"It doesn't. Surprise me, I mean. Dumbledore is a delusional coot. He's under the impression that he'll somehow tear my slave away from me."
"Then― if I may be so bold― why did you ask, My Lord?"
"Just wondering what's going through that foolish head of his. Mirage would never leave me, would you, pet?"
Mirage raised its eyes to the Dark Lord.
"On its life, this one would not," it swore.
"See?" said Voldemort smugly. "I know how Dumbledore thinks, and he fancies himself capable of predicting my moves as well, but we're on quite different terms."
"Glad I'm on the winning side," commented Lucius with a grin, toying with Mirage's bootlaces.
Voldemort followed the motion with his red eyes.
"Say, Lucius," he spoke. "Would you like to move to a more… appropriate room? I certainly enjoy your company, but surely you don't plan on keeping Narcissa up all night?"
Lucius' grin stretched even more, a sadistic edge to it.
"That'd please me, My Lord."
Voldemort placed his empty goblet on the silver tray and stood.
"May I borrow the chain?" asked the blond innocently, still sitting.
He heard the Dark Lord chuckled under his breath.
"I'd say drop it, but then it would only be half as amusing," he replied, handing Lucius the silver chain. Without another word, he crossed the room and disappeared through a corridor.
"It's time, beauty," Lucius told the silent slave, fastening the chain to its choker. "Come pleasure Mr. Malfoy."
Mirage arched lazily, stretching, and offered the man a secretive smile.
Standing, Lucius pulled at the chain and steered Mirage towards the threshold Lord Voldemort had gone through. It led to a corridor with several doors to both left and right, a sliver of light coming out of the only opened one. Following it, Lucius entered a spacious room with a big double bed. The Dark Lord sat at a Louis XIV chair in the corner, his features hidden in shadows.
"I thought you weren't coming," he drawled, sounding bored.
Ignoring him, Lucius turned to an expectant Mirage.
"On your knees," he ordered. "And take that off," he added, pointing at the leather jerkin it wore.
Mirage lowered itself, spreading its legs and throwing its pelvis forward. Moving slowly, its enigmatic smile still upon its lips, it began unclasping the silver buckles that held the garment together. Taking it off, he arched back as far as the chain would permit, and issued a low growl.
Reaching forward, Lucius caressed the newly exposed skin and, in a sudden move, pinched one of the creature's nipples between thumb and forefinger and gave it a rough twist.
Mirage yelped and its body recoiled involuntarily. Its hands, however, remained behind itself, sustaining its weight.
"Appropriate," acknowledged Lucius, lowering his hands to the slave's thighs. "Should we tie you up now?"
"Do with this one as you please, sir," answered Mirage, averting its eyes to look in Voldemort's direction.
"Sure I will. Levicorpus," uttering a surprised gasp Mirage was hauled upwards, hanging awkwardly from one of its ankles.
"Wha ―?" a second spell had its mouth tape-gagged. "Hmnn ―!"
A breathless snigger escaped Lucius' mouth. Pointing his wand again, he transfigured the bed pillows into two heavy-looking weights. Mirage contorted awkwardly, its arms hanging uselessly around its head and its free leg swinging in discomfort. Letting go of the chain, Lucius walked to the bed and retrieved the weights. Waving his wand anew he hung each of them from one of Mirage's wrists; successfully bringing its movements to a halt.
"You're so pretty when you're powerless," appreciated the blond, walking around the teen in wolfish circles. "What will I do now? More binding? Stinging spells?"
"Use this," commanded Voldemort, still shadowed at the corner. A long, slender object flew towards Lucius, who caught it in slight confusion. It was a riding crop.
"As you say, My Lord," he purred, touching the crop's tip affectionately. Turning around, he hit Mirage hard across the back. It whimpered and jerked, its unbound leg kicking in Lucius' general direction. The weights made its body swing.
"Yes, I like that," approved the man, circling again. Mirage's eyes followed him defiantly. When Lucius tried to caress its chin with the riding crop, it kicked again, almost managing to connect the tip of its boot with the man's face. "Oh, no, gorgeous, that won't do at all," mock-reprimanded the man. Pointing his wand again, he vanished Mirage's leather shorts. His mouth stretched in a vicious smirk at the sight of the cock cage that enclosed the creature's genitals. If Mirage's face hadn't been all red from the blood flow already, he would have blushed.
"So, how about this?" proposed Lucius. "If you do manage to kick me, I will free you, how does that sound?" Mirage made a 'nghnnnn' sound behind the tape gag. "Okay then," said the man, slapping it hard in the arse. It started again, swinging anew, not even close to touching Lucius with its free leg this time. "What?" insisted Lucius, hitting its arse again. Mirage's cry sounded more pained this time, its eyes closing. "Yeah, that's good," approved Lucius, rubbing his cock through the cloth of his robes. "Give me more," he demanded, slapping it again, and again, and again, until Mirage's cries became guttural and its chest heaved rapidly.
Lucius poised himself in front of the creature, letting it watch as he unbuttoned his tailored robes and let them fall to the floor. Mirage's eyes were teary, its unbound leg bent awkwardly forward, no longer aiming for the man. Lucius' trousers joined his robes on the floor and his pants followed. His manhood stood thick and proud above a rosy, soft-looking set of balls.
"Like it, pretty?" he asked, running his right hand up and down the swollen shaft.
"Mrrrhn," came the reply. "Hmn nrnmghnn."
"I know," Lucius answered. "I want to do you too."
The blond pointed his wand once again, tying Mirage's legs together with an Incarcerous so it could no longer kick. He then poised himself at its back, leaning forward to bite into its arsecheeks while rubbing his cock between Mirage's shoulder blades.
"Mnhhn!"
"Your skin smells so good," murmured Lucius, touching it with the tip of his nose. He then dove his face between the buttocks, kissing and licking at the creature's arsehole.
"Mnh! Hn… nhmmmm!" moaned Mirage, wriggling its body. Lucius' clothed arms surrounded it, keeping it in place and pressing his cock harder against its back.
"I know, pretty," he crooned, while continuing to rock his hips forward.
After two or so minutes of this routine, Mirage's leg muscles began to spasm; its body once again twisting against its restraints. Lucius retreated then; eyeing the creature's awakening manhood in a sort of sick fascination. Biting into his bottom lip, he smacked the riding crop hard across the back of Mirage's tights. Mirage cringed and arched, the chain that hung from its choker clinking against the weights.
Lucius let the crop fall to the floor and retrieved his wand. Cock in hand; he paced around the swaying form and, touching the tip of his member to its face, placed the tip of his wand halfway between Mirage's sternum and navel.
"If I take that gag off, will you be a good little whore and suck me?" he asked, sounding aloof. Mirage answered with a throaty 'mghnn'. "There you go, then," at which he let go of his cock and tore the tape gag from the creature's face. Mirage hissed at the sudden pain, a trickle of spittle escaping its mouth and rolling down its forehead. Its wheezing, gurgling pants filled the room.
"My head hurts," it complained. "Please sir, let this one down."
"Open wide," replied Lucius, introducing his shaft inside Mirage's mouth. "If you want down, you better start sucking."
And so Mirage did. With the same abandon it put onto any sexual activity, with the same urgency of the blood pounding inside its head, it did. Even though Mr. Malfoy was still pressing his wand to Mirage's tummy in mute threat, Mirage did not hesitate in letting the swollen organ into its mouth, relaxing its throat muscles as best it could to let it in deeper. Even when Mr. Malfoy's hand snaked behind Mirage's skull, pressing it hard against himself, Mirage kept engulfing the wet cock as if in hunger, as if it tasted better than anything it'd ever had in its life.
When Mr. Malfoy's arousal was so heavy his movements were graceful no longer and his breath came out in ragged, noisy pants, Mirage felt his own prick press painfully against the confines of its silver cage. In that moment, its mind was assaulted, as it always had, with images of Voldemort. The Dark Lord in his glorious white nudity, sitting at his throne with the air of one that could dominate everyone and everything. Master, The Master; his cock buried deep within Mirage and a constant stream of loving words rolling out of his tongue; sweet and thick and addicting like honey.
And Mirage knew, as he always did, that Master was in its mind, watching the same images and feeling the same overpowering need for release. This knowledge, the certainty of it brought deep, meowing moans to its throat. The vibrations and sounds that came with them took Mr. Malfoy to his climax, and as he quickly retreated to pump at his cock and cup his balls; Mirage closed its eyes and felt the hot spurts of spunk land on his skin while Mr. Malfoy's wand clanked, rolling away from them.
Then, as if a light switch had been turned off, Mirage fell over two big pillows that were weights no more. Licking its lips, it sighed.
"See yourself out, Lucius," spoke Lord Voldemort, neglectful of his Death Eater's after-sex state. The blond bent forward and picked up his wand; waving it to gather his clothing, he exited the room and closed the door without uttering a single word.
Mirage's rapid breathing was the only sound in the room.
"How do you feel, pet?" enquired Voldemort after a few seconds.
"My head still hurts, Master, but this one is okay," replied the slave, standing from the floor to sit at the bed.
Voldemort, still sprawled in his chair, eyed the reddened wrists as Mirage carefully removed the cage from his semi-erect member.
"Are you feeling 'okay' enough to take Master?"
"Certainly, Master," agreed Mirage, but Voldemort could easily see past his pet's sexual willingness. It was hurting and bone weary.
"Go take a bath, Mirage," he ordered, wanting to coat the creature's skin in healing salve himself but knowing he would probably fuck it if he did. "Apply Severus' salve everywhere you hurt, understood?"
"Yes, Master."
Mirage stood and walked with its usual feline cadence towards the door.
"Mirage?"
"Yes, Master?"
"Come share my bed when you're done."
Mirage's tired face split into a smile that was only slightly ruined by the traces of Lucius come that still clung to it.
creature*: Mirage's creature status has to do with him being Voldemort's property. He's legally recognized as a 'something' rather than a 'someone'.
. . .
A/N: I want to do as little explanatory notes as possible, because I feel they get in the way of some people's enjoyment of the story itself. So, if you have questions, feel free to ask them by either review or PM.