Title: Black and Deep Desires

By: Dr. Kim-chan

(It's been two weeks. A door in the corner opens, showing me with all my luggage, wearing a shirt that says "I (Heart) Tokyo!". I set down the bags and walk slowly in, trying not to be noticed…until…instant mass glomping session!)

Harry: Kim-chan!

Ron: Thank goodness you're back! We've been so bored! Did you think of the thirteenth chapter already!

Draco: Did you bring back any Pocky?

Me (muffled voice under the pile): Can't…breathe…

All 3: OH! (they let me up as Lucius walks into the room)

Lucius: Your trip was enjoyable, I assume.

Me (glumly): Yeah, but I also happened to be in Japan during the whole London fiasco. Not only that, but I was part of an organization called People to People Student Ambassadors, and we had fellow delegates visiting over there who were caught up in the attacks. Fortunately, they are safe and so am I, and the ones who died will never be forgotten. So remember this, everyone: If we are to freely enjoy the benefits of a passport, expand our horizons and minds, and see the world with our own eyes, we must not buckle under the strain of extremist morons! Life shall and will go on! Long live Britain!

All 4: Damn straight!

Me: (claps hands together and smiles) On that note, I can also present good news. I was able to buy the Sixth Book (in English!) in Tokyo a day before the US got it! (to US: Nyah-nyah!) It was good, and shocking, but until everyone's finished I won't say another word about it. Let's just say the end leaves much to be determined. Also, it's given me great insight on my own fic, but I've never meant for it to be compatible, so what sounds irregular by the book is no fault through my own. (suddenly cries loudly) WHY, JK, WHY!

Harry: What!

Me: Sorry. Sixth-Book-related hysteria. Anyway, to answer Ron's question, I've considered everyone's opinions, and after a great trip like that, I'm totally prepared to write the 13th chapter…an unlucky number, and so it'll be for Ron and Draco. If everyone remembers where we left off, then let's get to business! (leads everyone into the theater, then runs out, returning with a vast assortment of Japanese snacks. Takes out remote and dusts it off) And just for warning, Lucius gets kinda cruel.

Ron: How much 'kinda'?

Me: Oh, you'll see. Rolling Chapter 13! (clicks remote)

All 4: Welcome back, Dr. Kim-chan!

(Begin Chap. 13)

…"You're about to learn the hardest lesson of them all, Weasley."

"And that is?"

"Never cross my father's path."

The winds outside magnified in fury, sending a refreshing air throughout the humid August night. A fire in the hearth wasn't needed, so the ash-streaked grate stood below the mantle silently. The wind passing over the chimney created a chorus of otherworldly noises, but it was currently of no concern to Ron, who was lying across his bed at the manor and contemplating Draco's words. He certainly would've felt better if Lucius had yelled, or at least did something instead of leading them on like this. Once they returned home, Ron was sent to deliver the goods to Mr. Zabini's room, and Lucius immediately retreated to his study. He was still there and hadn't even come down to dinner, which worried Ron and Draco further. Ron knew there'd be risks if he slipped away to talk to Harry and Hermione, but at what price had he stole away for a few minutes?

Rolling over in pent-up anxiety, his pale right hand brushed up against the red ring around his left wrist. He glanced at it, face flushing with embarrassment. Hermione had almost figured out everything.

"Pardon me for even entertaining the notion, but does Mr. Malfoy ask you to do that for his personal purposes?"

She hadn't wanted to say any more than what was tolerable, but Ron was sure she put together the pieces of the puzzle. The same went for Harry. He liked it when people were concerned about him, but no one could know about what was going on…

Ron grumbled, his heart reaching the boiling point. What was Lucius doing in the study? Was he that upset…or even depressed? Was he offended at the possibility that Ron could've escaped and never have given him an answer to his question? He sat up, too restless to sit here and wait. It most likely wouldn't make a diplomatic dent, but he wanted to say sorry, say anything to get Mr. Malfoy to emerge from that small, lonely library.

Resolved beyond consideration, the stubborn Weasley climbed off the silk bed and entered the labyrinth of second-floor hallways. Blaise and Callisto were both asleep in their own rooms; even Draco realized it was a disagreeable time to try anything. That left him to sleep as well. The lurking shadows, shrieking wind, and Ron's own heartbeats conspired to add to his fears. He breathed apprehensively, as if there wasn't enough oxygen to spare, as he closed the door and started towards the north wing.

"Lumos," he whispered. His drawn wand flooded the corridor with a soft glow, but it didn't do much to make the atmosphere more calming. Taking more time to get there than usual—he tiptoed to avoid waking the exhausted alchemist—he reached the door of the study at last. The redhead pushed an ear against the door, trying to detect a sign that Lucius was still in there.

Quiet. He listened harder. Still no sound. Momentarily forgetting all qualms, Ron twisted the doorknob and barged in. The chair was askew. A few books were stacked out of place here or there, one or two still open on the desk. Upon closer inspection, a cabinet door had been unlocked. Whatever had rested in there before was now gone. Thin wispy smoke rose from out of the hearth; a fire had been recently extinguished. When did he leave? I took a nap in the afternoon, but…

"Were you looking for me?"

Ron yelped and pointed his wand in the random darkness, prepared to fire a defensive spell, just as the light revealed Lucius standing there with his own wand.

"Expelliarmus," Lucius instructed in a bored voice, making Ron's wand skid away into the shadows. "You can't afford to make decisions when you're afraid. You wanted to see me about what was in store for you since you failed to behave in Diagon Alley?"

"About that. I came here in the first place to apologize."

Lucius gave out an abominable, scornful chuckle, hastening his servant's heart. "Lovely to the point of naiveté. It adds to your charm. You thought I'd forget about your wrongdoings simply by saying 'sorry' and promising it'd never happen again?" he asked. He was doing so in a kind tone, but his eyes narrowed as he said it.

"Well, it's not like I wouldn't have meant it. I…I just can't stand you being angry with me. Whatever you have to do, just get it done. I can take it."

"As I've said to Potter once before, you're either very brave or very foolish. Before we face such ugly business, let us retreat to the parlor for coffee," he invited, flourishing a hand in the other direction and placing the other around his shoulder.

…Some things were obvious when it came to guessing that nothing was going to be as good as it seemed. Ron deduced this just recently. Once they had entered, Lucius ushered him into an overstuffed armchair as he bothered with the matters of servitude himself. Ron was so nervous the coffee cup rattled in his hands. Lucius sat across from him, studying his tremors.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he told the cup, pointing his wand at it. The delicate china flew from Ron's shaking fingers and proceeded to hover inches from his face.

"I'm not exactly in the mood for throwing away any more broken dishware. Understand now that no serious harm will come to you if you're willing to tell me your thoughts."

" 'Serious harm'?" Ron asked, becoming cynical all his own. "That doesn't guarantee any harm altogether, now does it?"

Lucius smiled. "Observant. You know that I've grown quite fond of you, but I can't let you get away with this on that fact alone. If I let you be, there is no telling what you might do, regardless of how much you return my affections."

"Who said I returned them?"

"Then if you hate the conditions here, why didn't you run?"

"Because…because I would've broken the deal we made, and you'd have probably did away with my family…and I didn't really have a reason," Ron answered, guiding the floating cup to his lips to take a drink.

"You don't miss your family? Your friends?"

"Of course I miss them, but I didn't want to put them in danger by running away."

"A bit pointless, isn't it? Potter's already in more danger than you could ever imagine. Following the prophecy word by word, he draws ever closer to his fate. But he can't handle it alone, and that's where the girl comes in. Amidst her blasphemous lineage, I cannot ignore her talents. But how far will Granger go to provide help?"

"All the way, just as I will."

"And surely I cannot argue. That was evident when you dared to slip your little note into mine before I sent it off to the Order."

Ron gaped at him and sat on his hands, keeping them away from any potential chinaware-based victims.

"That makes two counts against you, both for being a naughty servant who can't learn his place. But you're sending mixed messages to me, Ron. All this betrayal and you stop short of running back to Potter. There's something that holds you here, something you want to make sure of before you're released."

A little taken aback that he used his first name, Ron still didn't take much time to retaliate. "Don't get full of yourself. I'll admit one thing; you have been nice to me—with the exception of that other thing I have to do."

"And even then, have I not been gentler?"

A long, drawn-out pause on Ron's behalf. Lucius nodded.

"I'll admit that is was my fault. You tear down my resistance every time. Meaningless the sex remains to be, but there have been times when you witnessed mercy, and one day you'll truly see what it means to be my lover. On top of which, you have a more comfortable lifestyle here. Do you really want to return to the Order, the Burrow, and Harry's side just to be the forgotten sidekick once again, just another sibling of the family? You forget you have someone here who does love you."

Ron took a leaf from Harry's book and arched a skeptical eyebrow. Undaunted, Lucius set down his cup and reached around the armchair to retrieve something…

"However much you deny it, I do love you, and you return the feeling. Sadly, there are times that call for discipline, when I must let you experience pain in order to see exactly how much I care for you. Tough love, they call it. No matter how strong the affections, you're still a servant under my instruction. It doesn't make this any easier, but the disloyalty you've shown me over the past few days shows that you require an awakening of your own. Are you doing these things because you really miss your friends and family, or are you doing it out of a personal spite? Do you hate yourself because you're not sure how you feel?"

"I'm pretty sure of myself, thank you," Ron spat out. "What I think of you is that you're a crazy wizard who's not quite right in his mind, who strives for nothing but power and almost got himself caught on many occasions."

"And that power is what you're afraid of. Whenever you're with me, little by little, you lose the will to fight back. You give me a look of fear, a look of respect…a look of love—"

His hand was returning from the shadowy depths behind him.

"I want to see that look in your eyes again, Weasley."

Ron barely registered what was going on until he heard a hissing sound slice through the air. A flash of a thin, black mass danced before his eyes seconds before it made his coffee cup explode and proceeded to slash the skin of his chest. Giving out an astounding scream, Ron fell forward and desperately clutched at the low table. His eyes blurred with tears, an unforgiving burn a few inches below his neck. Rubbing his eyes vigorously, he looked down to see a ragged cut across his coffee-stained shirt showing more than what was initially promised on. The skin visible through the cut was a shining red. Then he focused his attention on what he needed to be focusing his attention on.

Lucius had stood up by now, and in his left hand was…a snake? No…a blacksnake whip. Among his newly jumbled thoughts, Ron was at a loss to decide what was more terrifying: this punishment or the blank, sorrowful expression on his master's face. It was as if someone had performed the Imperius Curse on him, forcing him to do this out of his will—to do this to someone he loved more than anything.

Whoever this new man was or whatever his reasons were, he was dangerous. Ignoring his blistering chest, Ron staggered to get up and stumbled towards the door in record speed. Two hands found their way to the doorknob, but in his panic Ron couldn't twist it correctly. Another hiss, and another wound was inflicted on his back. He collapsed against the door and fell to his knees. Automatic, anguished moans clambered out of his mouth; he was too in pain and shock to scream properly.

"I don't recall saying you could leave. Believe me, this is for your benefit."

The wizard standing above him spoke in an apprehensive voice, as if it wasn't true. It was a time like this when one really needed their wand, but then Ron remembered that his was on the floor in the north wing…all the way upstairs, and he couldn't reach it to save his life…

And more hisses proceeded to screech through the air…

…Whether by fate or mere chance, Draco was meandering through the north wing in the meantime. His sleep had gone on undisturbed for a couple of hours until a ghastly dream woke him. He was groggy and unsure of what to do, so he let his mind direct him to where he'd feel comfortable, and that was Ron's room in the east wing.

He was three doors apart from his father's door when he heard footsteps and stopped cold, half-hidden by the shadows. Straining to see, he spotted Lucius walking towards his room, but with something in his hands—a big something. Muttering a spell, the door opened and he walked in without further restriction. Curious, Draco stepped closer to the threshold and peered inside, only to retreat immediately after he heard a ragged, pitiful sobbing fill his ears. It was unlike anything he had ever heard before.

"I know it hurts, but the potion's necessary. The burning will subside soon. Believe what you want, but I went easy on you. The cuts could've been a lot worse."

Cuts?, Draco thought incredulously, and he peered in again. Someone was in the bed, with Lucius sitting by the edge on a chair. Pulling out his wand, Lucius performed a Freezing Charm on his victim, whose crying gradually began to fade. Suddenly, the young blonde saw what lay on the floor by his father's feet…a black coil with a handle…

Oh god, not the whip! Not even Weasley deserved that! I thought I'd never see that damned thing again…

"Draco."

All thoughts stopped. Draco's body became stiff and motionless in an unconscious, futile attempt to hide.

"I know you're there. No use sneaking around. Come here."

With a resigned sigh, he entered the room. A few candles were lit around the perimeter of the bed, casting an odd glow on his father's face…or was it his own expression? There was definitely something setting apart this moment from Lucius's usual stark glare.

Then Draco dared to stare at Ron, and his hands flew up to his mouth to cover a terrified gasp. The shirt he had been wearing was torn to shreds, leaving him practically shirtless, so his wounds were almost in full view. Two diagonal cuts had burned scarlet paths across his upper chest and stomach. Leaning over to see the back (since Ron was lying on his side), he was also alarmed to see four others wounds imprinted there, one of them a perfect vertical line.

"This is the retribution Weasley received tonight, not only for the incident in Diagon Alley, but for an earlier act of deception. Am I not also correct in saying that you were a part of this plan? Not only that, but a few nights ago you went against me and saw Zabini in your bedroom, which of course wasn't the first time?"

"Father…"

"You'll soon be bearing my responsibilities. No blatant disregard for me will stand. I don't know if you're just too young to understand, but believe me when I say the current circumstances are too risky for you to be falling in love or to be helping one of Potter's allies. Are you saying you do not wish to be a Death Eater?"

"No. It's just—Blaise's different. He's really nice and kind to me. I haven't felt so happy…and as for Weasley, I can't be looking after him all day."

"That's not the point. You're lucky you will not be suffering the same fate as him," interrupted Lucius, nodding his head towards Ron and getting up to leave. "I'll overlook today in Diagon Alley, and I was going to overlook your affair with Zabini, but now I see I've been too lenient in the matter. Therefore, I forbid you from continuing the relationship."

Forgetting his place, Draco burst out, "Father, you can't do this!"

"I'm your father, and what I say is my final word."

Now turning an unbefitting shade of pink, Draco lost it and suddenly had the bravery to yell back, "You never let me be happy! You're only jealous because I found someone who loves me while your marriage with Mother fell apart!"

Lucius stopped cold, his back facing his son. Draco bit his lower lip, realizing he toed the line. Ever since Narcissa walked out on them, it was almost an unwritten taboo to speak of her name in the house. By this time, Ron stirred from his brief slumber because of the unnecessarily loud disagreement. He stared at Lucius and saw a deadly expression on his face, the one he saw only once when he had taken Ron by the throat at the mentioning of his wife. Flinching, he already knew Draco was in for it.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Ron peeped out. "Now, don't be hasty—"

"Weasley, I'll ask for your opinion when I need it. For the moment, I'd like you to kindly get up and hand me the whip by your bed."

"Father!"

"But—"

"Now."

The situation was unavoidable. Trying not to look into Draco's eyes, Ron minded his healing wounds and slowly picked up the coil. The whip was cold, hard, and rough in his hands, speckled here and there with his own blood, and a Hungarian Horntail was inscribed into the metal handle. Who would own such an instrument of cruelty? Ron cursed himself for having to follow orders and began to make his way towards his incensed master. Passing by Draco, an almost inaudible whisper was heard:

"I'm sorry."

It felt like many agonizing years before he finally reached Lucius, who grabbed the whip by that same metal handle and at last turned to his last bit of prey for the night. There were barely any words to describe the horror wrought upon his son's face. Ron wanted to run and hide somewhere so badly, but he was rooted to the spot, bewitched by the pure tension.

Before he had time to blink, Lucius raised his right hand and caused the whip to hiss through the air again. Ron stared helplessly as Draco ran here and there to avoid the whip's unpredictable strike. The black ribbon of death danced above his father's head, controlled by graceful flicks of the wrist and plotting the young blonde's every move, until…

"Ah!"

The first strike aimed low and managed to catch him on the back of one of his legs, forcing Draco to fall. Desperate, he crawled into a corner in a defensive position, but now he was trapped. As if it was aware of this new advantage, the whip rose upward and danced with more vigor, falling for the second time upon Draco's shoulder blade. Up, a hypnotic dance, and then another merciless strike, hitting a different spot each time. Feeling about ready to faint, Ron took hold of the bed's backboard, witnessing this entire horrific scene in reluctant silence. He couldn't let go of the backboard to plug in his ears for fear of losing his stance completely, but it was unbearable past this point to hear Draco's heart-rending shrieks of anguish. Five, six, seven…ten, eleven, twelve…

Thirteen strikes.

The whip lashed back to its place, and Lucius caught it and coiled it back up in his masterful grip. It was done. Without a word, he left the room. Testing his stability, Ron let go of the backboard, shook, and was able to stay standing. He didn't know why. Draco was barely recognizable. His silk pajamas were ripped beyond recognition, bled upon from the multiple cuts in his skin. A splash or two of scarlet was in his white-blond hair. Above all, he was in the fetal position, wailing uncontrollably.

Can I ever love someone so heartless? Is this what he meant by having power? Having the power to hurt? Am I supposed to be impressed or something?

Shaking his head in answer to all of his own questions, Ron took it upon himself to help Draco to the bed and tend to his wounds.

Tough love, huh? It sure can't get any tougher than this—

"Weasley."

His head snapped up from the phial of healing potion in his hand to Draco's unmarked face, twisted by both agony and remorse.

"Hm?"

"…I'm sorry, too…"

"About what? You have—"

"When I tricked you that time…it looks like I won't be able to see him anymore…"

(End Chap. 13)

Draco: (crying) I don't get any anymore! And I was whipped! I'm in so much emotional and psychological pain!

Harry: Is that really the end of Draco and Blaise?

Me: I'm afraid so. But do not despair, for the Good Doc has so much more up her sleeve!

Lucius: (brooding in the corner)

Me: What's wrong now?

Lucius: I don't like you anymore. You made me be mean to Ron. Now prepare for the Silent Treatment, starting...now.

Me: (gasp) Not the Silent Treatment! I need inspiration from you! You're my muse, dammit!

Lucius: (silent)

Me: Crap. Well, until Chapter 14, guys.