Title: Black and Deep Desires
By Dr. Kim-chan
Me: Harry, Ron, Draco! Break out the champagne and pumpkin juice!
Harry: What for?
Me: We got our first reviews! Hopefully the R/L bug is starting to catch on! Now where was I? Oh yeah! TWO buckets of butterbeer on the wall, two buckets of butterbeer. Take one down, pass it around…ONE bucket of butterbeer on the wall! One bucket of butterbeer on the wall, one bucket of butterbeer! Take it down, pass it around…NO MORE BUCKETS OF BUTTERBEER ON THE WALL!
Draco:…So, I take it the song's done.
Me: Yes.
All 3: Finally!
Ron: Great. Now that that's over, what do we have to worry about in this chapter?
Me: (says nothing, and a Cheshire Cat grin appears on my face as I look at him)
Ron: Oh no…this is where it's gonna get 'squicky', isn't it!
Me: Heck yeah! Can you believe I wrote three whole chapters without any fanservice? I must be losing it!
Harry: Exactly how squicky is this gonna get?
Me: (whispers it in Ron's ear, and he faints)
Harry: Ah. Say no more.
Me: At least it'll be below NC-17! It's not like I'll describe it in excruciating detail (well, maybe…)! Ron, wake up! Ron! Dammit, that's the third time this week…poor boy. Oh well. I'll excuse him from commenting on this chapter, but for this one only! Too bad. It's my longest chapter thus far. In fact, it's a two-part chapter.
Draco: Then can we be excused, too?
Me: Not so fast, buck-o. (ties Harry and Draco to their chairs) Rolling Chapter 4! (clicks her remote)
(Begin Chap. 4)
...Ron's training began that very night.
In truth, he wasn't expected to perfect all the arts of menial service until a couple of days later, when Lucius finished explaining the many intricate schedules which made the Malfoy Manor 'tick', so to speak. Serving breakfast at the right time and pruning the garden—the less important aspects of being a servant would be introduced to Ron later; they were set aside to be learned another time. If you really thought about it, actually being a servant would be the least important task Ron would have to perform. Ironic, but true, and if one understood the dark, underlying nature of Lucius Malfoy that Ron came to realize soon enough, it made perfect sense.
What Ron Weasley was immediately taught on the night before his first day of official enslavement was a lesson that, unfortunately for him, would put upon him the burden—no, the displeasure—to remember it over and over again. Certainly something sinister was at work behind Ron's fate.
After their short bout of bargaining, Ron compelled Lucius to keep him as a servant rather than a hostage in order to buy both himself and the middle-aged blonde more time. Ron still didn't know who this Callisto Zabini was, but if his services required such desperate measures, then maybe it was of the utmost important that he should cooperate with Lucius.
That was a decision he came to regret.
Set the scene: the aforementioned last night. Just moments away from ignoring Ron's heartfelt pleas, Lucius turned around to accept the boy's proposal. We shall pick up at the minute in time where the redheaded captive laid in the damp bed, shivering but relieved that his family would be in danger no longer. Oh, but little did Ron know what he had committed himself to.
It was true that the Malfoy Manor had began to find itself in a less-than-impressive state since Harry had freed Dobby from serving there. Of course Lucius needed a cook, a washer, someone to respond to his every need. You and I don't need to be told that the Malfoys weren't the kind of people who picked up after themselves…especially now that Narcissa was gone.
Oh, we have to ask that question now, don't we? What did happen to Lucius's wife? I'll tell you: no one can give a clear answer, not even Narcissa herself. The only way we can perceive it is that after the ordeal in the Department of Mysteries, Narcissa couldn't handle the stress of being a Death Eater's wife. In addition, she was shaken up by the arrest of her closest sister Bellatrix Lestrange, whom was almost sure to be convicted of murder. No member of the Order in their right mind would refuse to testify against the killer of one of their own. But what Narcissa overlooked was that Sirius Black hadn't been popular with the Ministry, either. But Mrs. Malfoy gave up hope on that; even if Sirius's death wasn't that much of an issue to get excited over in the Ministry, the Order would most likely return with a vengeance, and she was still seen in the trademark robes. On top of that, there was the simple fact that she was tired of Lucius's dangerous antics. Therefore, she gathered whatever precious belongings she had and abandoned her power-hungry husband, heading towards the Manse de le Fay. Waiting for her there was one of her best friends, Meredith le Fay.
Abruptly finding himself alone, Lucius longed for another companion, and now he had one. A teenage boy in his prime…a Weasley, for Merlin's sake. Surely he could use Ron to fulfill his private, personal needs.
But he'd have to learn quickly, and already he saw the perfect situation in which to test his new pet.
From his pocket Lucius extracted a tiny skeleton key. Methodically he entered it into each keyhole of a manacle. Then Ron sank fully into the bed. He moved his arms, discovered he was free, and quietly let out a grateful sigh. Cautiously he watched his new master, attempting to forecast what he wanted him to do now.
"Obviously you're wet, and who knows what side of which pile on the farm you rolled off of," Lucius cynically observed. "This'll be your first lesson. I expect cleanliness in my house, even from you—and right now you must be chilled to the bone."
Ron nodded hesitantly.
"First perform a drying spell on your bed…yes, I said your bed. As of now, this is your personal bedroom. If you haven't seen it already, there's an adjoining bathroom on your left. After you're through, you can enjoy a warm bath."
Nodding vigorously now, Ron searched his pockets, finding his wand in his robes. Briskly, a creamy blue light spread out over the red silk sheets, returning them to their former softness. There was a touch of delicious sin to this simple act; he suddenly remembered the rule of not performing magic outside of Hogwarts. Following suit, Lucius took out his own wand and ignited the hearth of the fireplace. At last, the room was warm to the touch! Forgetting himself, Ron smiled as he entered the bathroom.
Stop. A gasp of amazement.
The bathroom was as large as his bedroom in the Burrow. He expected the Malfoys to be living in the lap of luxury, but not like this. He walked over to the edge of a tub—a tiled, sunken hole in the floor with a thin lining of porcelain. There were extended ledges halfway up the tub to sit on, but to compare area ratios for a moment, if Ron sat on the bathtub's floor when water was poured in up to the top, the water would go half an inch over his head.
Then he saw the water taps. Remembering to plug the drain first, Ron experimented with a few. They were exactly like the taps in Harry's story about going to the prefect's bathroom in fourth year. One tap produced scalding, soapy water with purple bubbles and a lavender scent to match. He equalized the temperature with clear cold water, then added a lukewarm green mixture smelling of an exotic jungle flower. Then he lessened the cold water's pressure, turned up the green mixture, and tested one more tap…hah! A right choice. Another waterfall of suds flowed into the tub; a warm, moon-white color carrying the scene of fresh white roses. All of them created a steamy, psychedelic concoction of water, steadily filling up the bathtub.
When it got to where Ron could sit both on the ledge and the floor without his head going completely under the water, he stopped all the taps and began to think deeply. Were things really turning out as bad as he expected? Save for the cold bloody water thrown on him, Lucius was being abnormally kind. He had a spacious bedroom all to himself, a wonderful bathroom. Work would soon be involved, but at least he wouldn't have to deal with those chains again. If he played his cards right, he'd also avoid any trouble or punishment as well. No, things weren't going to be bad around here.
Or so he thought.
He heard footsteps again. Taking his eyes off the fastener on his robe, Ron looked up to see Lucius again, this time holding a towel.
"I hope the accommodations are to your liking," he murmured, a hint of satisfaction (or was it something else?) enveloped in his voice.
"Are you kidding! They're better than at my house. If this is the treatment I'm getting as a servant, I can only imagine the life you and Draco live," Ron exclaimed, freeing himself of the saggy robe. "Wait. Um, Mr. Malfoy, I didn't bring any other clothes…of course I didn't. I wasn't expecting being taken prisoner." (The latter sentence he muttered under his breath.)
"All taken care of. My old throwaways will suit you. A bit bigger, but they'll do just fine."
"Thank you, sir." Ron flinched, but he figured he'd better get used to calling Lucius by the honorable title. He'd have to call him that from now on.
Lucius only smiled in response, still doing so as he left Ron to his bathing duties. But once the man found himself on the other side of the door, his smile took on another definition.
Yes, Ron was hot-blooded, but he was compassionate deep inside. That trait alone was to be used as his downfall.
If we can talk very personally for a moment, Lucius was actually thrilled to be rid of his quarrelsome wife. She was necessary for a few tasks he never bothered with, but Narcissa had been just as self-centered as he had. Yet there was a solitary element she brought into their personal chambers that made most of the tension in the Malfoy household worth it. Of course I'm discussing the private, sexual nature of their relationship. However, a while after their son was born, he grew quite bored with lovemaking, at least that of Narcissa's standards. We need not go into detail, but let's just say that Narcissa vied for dominance just as much as Lucius. He wanted someone who would squirm and shudder beneath him, someone who would feel completely helpless and needy at the same time…and, admittedly, someone who wasn't female.
Their marriage wasn't totally loveless, but Lucius had always possessed the expert wandering eye belonging only to a homosexual trapped in a straight married man's body. Their marriage was created out of aristocratic expectations and Lucius's hunger for a male heir. Aside from those reasons, Narcissa was disposable. Now that she practically disposed of herself, he was free to play the field, and the boy behind the door was his first victim. Yes, Ron was young, but it added to the excitement of the hunt. Always grab something while it's still fresh. It would also decrease the effort of intimidating him as far as age was concerned. He was also a servant, obligated to please him in any way fathomable.
It was a winning combination.
Contemplating his next move, the conniving man left the room.
…Meanwhile, Ron was blissfully unaware, immersing himself in the sweet-smelling bath water. He made extra-care to clean off the rust and blood on his wrists, then spent the rest of his allotted time warming himself and thinking deeply again. He was beginning to have second thoughts. Lucius Malfoy was known to strike up a deal that seemed promising, then the associate would find himself in deeper trouble than he bargained for. Could he be trusted this time? What if he kept Ron and still demanded money from the Weasleys? To no one in particular, he shrugged his wet shoulders in answer to his own question. He'd cross that bridge when he got there.
Raising his hands up from beneath the surface, Ron checked his fingers for waterlogged wrinkles. Yep, they were pruned. Feeling along the bathtub surface for the plug, he caught the small iron ring with his toe and pulled. The colorful water raced down the drain, and he climbed up the slippery tiles. He grabbed the towel, covered himself, and turned the doorknob.
Lucius wasn't anywhere to be found, but had laid out clothes at the edge of the bed. As soon as he saw them, Ron's thoughts changed again. The material was a dark blue silk, as if the older man had wanted to make sure that his pajamas coordinated with his features.
His skin returning to an icy temperature, Ron quickly dried himself off by the fireplace, then changed into his new pajamas. They were loose in some places and tight in others, but in all the right spots. The area around the collarbone especially drew attention to his pale neck. They were very comfortable, but that could've been a biased opinion due to the fact that he had never worn silk before. As foolish as it sounded to his ego, he'd have to thank Mr. Malfoy in the morning for these new clothes.
He surmised that he was allowed to go to sleep now; there wasn't anything he could do this late at night to serve his new master. Lucius had probably retired to bed himself. Drowsily, Ron drew the now dry, smooth covers over him and used another charm to extinguish the candles, leaving the soft glow of the hearth's fire. The flames created dancing shadows around the bedroom, but Ron wasn't uneasy. If it had been a thunderstorm tonight, that would've been a different story.
His eyelids drooped and sagged, beginning to give way to sleep. Unrelated thoughts flashed through his head. One minute, he wondered how distant the Malfoy Manor was from the Burrow in Ottery St. Catchpole—not that he was planning to escape. He blinked once, seeing the bed's canopy above him. He blinked again, and he watched the constant shift of reddish light giving the room a dim luster.
He blinked for a third time…and saw a dark figure loom over him.
Instantly, Ron sat straight up, ready to give himself the run of his life. But he peered closer to find that it was just Lucius. He must've been really sleepy; he didn't even hear him come in. Now he only had one question: Why was he here?
"I know you're tired, what with the predicament you've been through today…but there's something you need to learn immediately concerning your new job, and I figure that now is as good as any time."
Ron rubbed his eyes. "What…is it?"
"I guess this explanation will stem from what recently happened in the manor. You see, my wife is no longer with me."
"I get it. You wanted a servant so they could do the things Mrs. Malfoy used to do."
"You're partially correct."
For the second time, the older man sat down, but not at the edge of the bed. He sat directly beside Ron, very close to his body. The younger boy was curious, but not suspicious. Too bad. Suspicion could've saved him.
"I don't understand. What else did she do?" Ron asked.
"You're old enough, Weasley. You should've already come to terms with the facts of life. In all truth, Narcissa didn't make a motion to clean or cook around the house. She was a refined debutante, putting herself above the ordinary role of a housewife. You're actually replacing my old house elf. There's nothing absolutely radical about what you'll be doing in the manor—except for one thing," explained Lucius cryptically. "There was one duty she faithfully performed, and even then I began to grow disgusted with her. But the fault laid with me. I never wanted a wife in the first place, anyway. Females are too superficial."
Seeing that Ron still didn't comprehend, Lucius decided to jump the gun.
"Let me be blunt. The other duties you perform are still important, but none of them will take precedent over the duty I am about to assign you now. And to start, I just desire to ask one question of you. Maybe then you'll understand what I truly need you for, the real reason why I approved of you becoming my personal servant."
Lucius inclined his face into Ron's ear, whispering the offending inquiry.
"I take it you're still a virgin?"
Ron immediately jumped back and blushed so warmly the crimson shades of his cheeks were close to rival that of his hair. Why in hell did he ask that question, out of all the questions in the world! Now there wasn't any doubt that he was awake.
"Wha—! I mean…why're you…huh!" Ron stammered.
"It's an innocent question," Lucius smirked.
"Speak for yourself!"
"Just answer it. I command you to."
Ron flinched, realizing that he had been backed into a corner.
"Yes," he muttered quietly. "But what does that have to do with—?"
He stopped in mid-sentence. It hit him. The liability he was now supposed to substitute for since Narcissa was out of the house. That had to be it; what else would he be talking about? But it couldn't be. It all sounded so wrong, so immoral. Then again, he wouldn't put it above to Lucius to try.
"You wouldn't dare," Ron whispered edgily, his anger rising. "I said I'd be your servant, not your damn concubine!"
"And I also recall you saying that you'd do anything I want you to for the sake of keeping your family safe," Lucius shot back. Ron cowered back, but retained some of his ire. This was pure blackmail! But he'd be damned if he let this pervert steal his virginity.
"What, so I'm just a toy to you?"
"Don't put it in such harsh terms, Weasley. Who knows? You might enjoy it. At your age, it's perfectly normal to be curious."
When he saw an arm start to reach for him, Ron sensed that now was the time to run, or at least try. Throwing back wave upon wave of silk sheets to try and confound his predator, he desperately snatched away five seconds of success before another arm caught him around his midriff and drew him back. The shadows of the fire danced again, giving Ron enough light to see that Lucius was now a scarce inch above him, trapping him below. The older man was close enough for Ron to see deeply into his blue eyes, which now held sparks of frightening determination.
"I do not believe you have a choice in the matter. Your first lesson starts right now…"
(End Chap. 4, Part 1)
Harry: OMG!
Draco: OMG!
Me: OMG!
Ron: OMG!
Me: (looks over at Ron) I thought you fainted!
Ron: I woke up around the part where I had gotten out of the bathtub. But more importantly…you're a cruel authoress who deserves to die!
Me: You can't even touch me. I have special authoress powers, remember? It says here in the contract.
Ron: To hell with the contract!
Me: Fine! (ties Ron down in a chair) For your punishment, Mr. Potty Mouth, you must stay there and critique Part 2 with us. And let me tell you, it's only gonna get worse.
Draco: That seems obvious enough. My father turned into a deranged, sex-deprived lunatic.
Me: In any case, we're at a cliffhanger, guys! What will happen next?
Harry: No walk in the park, I'll tell you that much.
Me: Find out in the next chapter, where we test the limits of the ratings on FF.N! Mwahahahahahaa!