Title: Black and Deep Desires
By: Dr. Kim-chan
Me: I think I've broken the record.
Harry: What record?
Me: For the longest-running L/R series, and we've only scratched the tip of the iceberg. On a somewhat-related note, I was glad to find out that wizards/witches do in fact come of age at 17; that means the other plot point I've been planning is also possible.
Lucius: What other plot point?
Me: I've said too much just mentioning it. Anyway, so no one gets lost, the really long Chapter Sixteen alternates between the present and the various flashbacks of Lucius. For Flashback No. 3, make sure you know who's talking because it's nothing but dialogue. (So a LOT of this is in italics.) It also reveals why Narcissa split.
Ron: Is she making a comeback at any time?
Me: Probably. Why? You worried she's coming back to steal your main squeeze?
Ron: (blushing) No…
Lucius: I wouldn't forgive the skankbag even if she did come back.
Me: (gasp) What if children are reading this?
Draco: You rated this story M! What perverted child would be reading this?
Me:…You have a point. Rolling Chapter 16! (clicks remote)
(Begin Chap. 16)
…After the storm a few nights ago, it happened to rain once more on Thursday—the day that Lucius Malfoy had been dreading for quite some time.
Ron's help around the house had been quite valuable amidst his betrayal, and by now it'd be pointless to reiterate the physical pleasure he had gained from all this. Try he did at concealing his true emotions, but save for the first time he knew Ron had enjoyed it, especially last night. He made no more attempts to back away, practically giving himself to the older man.
At 7:30 a.m. on that damp and chilly morning, the rain tapped on the vaulted bay windows in Mr. Malfoy's regal bedchambers, serving perfectly as a wake-up call. Lucius was never a deep sleeper; he had invariably trained himself to be ever vigilant. He awoke with a certain routine: open eyes, close them again and shake off the sensation of apathy for a good few minutes, take note of what time it was, then turn and look to the other side of the bed. (It was at this step that he usually ground himself back to reality; he'd be reminded of the terrible lie to which he had committed himself.) Then he would get up, get dressed, and walk downstairs hoping Dobby hadn't made a mess in the kitchen.
He hated that routine, more so when Draco left for Hogwarts. Then it was just him and Narcissa, and getting called away to business with the Dark Lord was better than trying to rekindle the spark in a marriage that never carried one to begin with.
But ever since he whisked off Ron at the raid, things had picked up. Either he didn't have to look at Narcissa at all, or he beheld a vision of what could've been confused as a ginger-haired angel. This morning he had the pleasure of seeing the latter, but at the same time it was depressing. This would be the last time he could do so. Even if he wanted to betray the deal he made with the Order of the Phoenix, it'd only be a matter of time before Hogwarts and the Ministry looked into it, and Azkaban never got any more enjoyable. He had to look on the bright side—this annoying debt to Callisto would finally be paid off. But what the alchemist was working on was sinister, even for his tastes…
(Flashback No. 1)
…It had been the night before Lucius, Draco, and Ron set off to Diagon Alley. Going back to Knockturn hadn't been on the original agenda, but Callisto had called him to his bedroom to discuss something before bed.
His first step into Callisto's room this time around offended his sense of smell. Only the left side of the room was even remotely fit for a person to slumber in; the right side had been transformed into a potions laboratory that even Severus would've lusted after. The smell was coming from a cast-iron cauldron filled partway with a thick, cloudy substance with a crimson hue—like human blood.
Sitting before it was the infamous alchemist with an index finger following a passage in a journal. Grunting in approval, he cast it aside and reached for a corked bottle. As his hand closed around it, the eye not hidden by matted hair spotted his accomplice closing the door behind him and covering his nose.
"The smell isn't that terrible, is it?" he asked mockingly.
"Far be it from me to enforce the Muggle tale that all potions are odious in nature, but yes."
Callisto grinned and separated the cork from the bottle. He adjusted his scales and poured on a certain amount of the contents.
"Unfortunately a good deal of this has been guesswork. No alchemist in living history has lived to tell the tales of their successes and failures. Can't say I feel too sorry. The problem laid with them. They were foolish to test the Malefecium on themselves…and went mad," he said as he shrugged and pushed the amount onto a small spade. Backing away slightly in reflex, he dropped it in. Lucius came closer and watched in fascination as the cloudiness dissolved, giving it the appearance of red-dyed water.
"Isn't it a little pompous, naming a potion after me?"
A pause, and then laughter erupted, the curtain of hair around Zabini's face shaking every which way.
"Not even you've heard of this potion. The Malefecium Elixir's existence goes way before your family's and has a much more obscure history. Is it coincidence the name is similar? Yes, but I certainly can't rule out the possibility. Malefecium comes from Latin, meaning 'bad'…a gross understatement of both its intent and reputation."
"Is this what Voldemort's been after?"
"Yes. I know I shouldn't speak ill of our master—"
"Then don't."
"—but he has no wisdom at all pertaining to the art of alchemy. His new plot would be lost without me. The price would've been higher due to the circumstances, but I at least have the decency to show a little respect to my employer, given his reputation."
"This plan of his…is it confidential?" Lucius ventured to ask.
Callisto looked up, all mirth from his face gone.
"I should say so. I don't remember a time when the Dark Lord would so willingly divulge an important plan to anyone, even to his closest of followers. However, if you are capable of holding yourself with utmost secrecy—which I know you are—I am obliged to tell you, and only for three reasons. You've sheltered me, you will be responsible for giving me my payment, and…most important of all…your son will be given the task of placing the next phase of Voldemort's plan in motion. That phase will also make or break his victory in the war. Your son fails…"
He faltered, assured that Lucius understood the consequences of bringing failure upon the Dark Lord at the worst possible time. He did. It had been all up to Narcissa to free him from Azkaban; neither Voldemort nor his connections in Azkaban had bothered with his arrest.
"Anyway, the Malefecium Elixir is a potion belonging solely to the Dark Arts, alchemy also heavily involved. This cannot be made by normal potion-making means. What you see before you is the result of six years of work. It is only now I'm in the final stages, and I am very lucky to be this far, what with the Ministry raid on my house a couple years back. After I was released, I tried to refine my half-finished work before I claimed it as a lost cause. Even then, my mind couldn't help but wander. I wanted to involve myself with the project again; Voldemort gave me a second chance."
"Six years?" the blonde man awed.
"Even if one was trying to make a Polyjuice Potion and a Veritaserum at the same time, it wouldn't require nearly half as much work as one dose of Malefecium. And when one is finished, they must ask themselves if it was worth all that time. He hasn't told me the name of the unfortunate soul we're feeding this cursed liquid to, but I'll pity them if the prose is true."
"What prose?"
"In the second year of the project I came upon an old journal, written by the last wizard to attempt making it. He found an old poem telling what the Elixir does and was able to finish it. However, he drank the potion to get rid of his enemies; damn fool didn't read the entire thing. Slaughtered his family and most of the few companions he had and was never able to find the antidote...if you can call it a proper antidote. He was taken by madness. One of his close friends who managed to avoid his rage ended up having to kill him. No one was sad to see him go."
Lucius shook his head at the sheer misfortune the wizard in the story had endured. He scarcely showed sympathy, but then again the story was just that pitiful.
"He thought it gave you the strength and the mercilessness to get rid of your enemies. It gives you that, but for another purpose: 'Happiness becomes sadness, light becomes dark; the demons within you you'll find to hark. Enemies becomes friends, friends become foes, and then you will face life's terrible woes.' You come to love your enemies—it's your loved ones who have to face your wrath."
"Now I see why he wants it. Why did you question the cure?"
"Because unlike most antidotes, the one for Malefecium isn't another potion…not even a bezoar can cure it. The verse after tells you…'The antidote is simple, if that is what you seek; find your true love's lips within a moon's week.' But I highly doubt he was able to do it."
"Why?"
" 'But a warning of all, it might not be of ease. You may find yourself killing them, listening to their pleas.' If Malefecium makes you kill your loved ones in the first place, there may not be a true love left to kiss. If at all, the given month only causes the victim more anguish."
"And what becomes of them then? Do they spend the rest of their days killing until someone disposes of them?"
"No. The friend who killed this man didn't know about the potion either, or else he would've waited. The last line says, 'To all those who so do this, remember only this last phrase: the next new moon will be the end of your days.' If not someone, then the potion itself takes care of things. You see, then, why no witch or wizard who tested it on themselves has had the chance. But history may soon be proven wrong, which brings me to why I called you here…"
(End of Flashback)
…There was only one clue as to who this potion was intended for: he or she would be at Hogwarts. If his son had to bear the burden of carrying out this mission, then Draco knew this person well. The days after, in a slight bout of panic, Lucius started to believe Voldemort's target was the boy lying next to him. It was open debate, and there was a good chance he was right, giving rise to a whole new dilemma. If it was required to bring his master back to power, and if Ron was in fact the target in question, no one could say Lucius wouldn't double-cross the Dark Lord himself.
Meanwhile, Ron began to stir, jarring Lucius from his thoughts. With a daze, the boy looked over at the clock in the corner. Ten to eight. He grumbled and went back to sleep. Lucius had told him the night before everyone would be taking breakfast a little late. Draco wouldn't be coming along this time either. It was bad enough he had to endure the strain of taking two extra people with him as he Apparated to Knockturn last time, and Draco wouldn't be needed. (As undignified as the system was, he'd be glad enough when he got his Floo Network back.)
Well, Ron didn't go back to sleep proper. He laid there beside Lucius—both without any clothes on—contemplating how far this had gone. He still wasn't yet aware of where his feelings were, but he was afraid he had already confirmed something without using words, and he had to admit the sad truth that for a minute, he let his guard down. Last night had been completely out of the ordinary. He stopped flinching or repulsing, acting as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Did it relate to the interesting revelations made two days ago?
Ron wasn't aware, but Lucius was staring at him again, thinking the same thing. Normally he'd have never been so candid. Well, that was another thing Ron was able to change around here. So many feelings Lucius hadn't even been aware of were suddenly brought out into the open and cleared. The most important of those feelings pertained to Narcissa's disappearance, as it has been said many times before. Lucius simply and foolishly assured himself it was happiness, but there was a fatal mistake in that. He turned out to be greatly disappointed—not in Narcissa leaving, particularly, but the overall feeling of abandonment. From there, the puzzle began to solve itself.
(Flashback No. 2)
…Again, Lucius was talking to Callisto, but this time out in the garden courtyard. There was no real conscious decision in this except that a favored part of the garden entered its blooming prime around this season. It was a lot to be said that Lucius even had a favorite part, as the garden was Narcissa's former hideaway. In her younger years she had been an active gardener, but as time went by she became more superficial—if that was possible.
Incidentally, the subject under discussion today was her. The reason Ron hadn't been able to talk to Lucius until this day was because they had been called to an unexpected gathering late at night. They were irritated to discover upon their arrival that Pettigrew had called the meeting. His only validation was the little group of fellow Death Eaters who passed this information along to him. Everyone was growing more wary of Voldemort's temper, even the people in his inner circle, a key reason why he hadn't been told about the gathering.
They were called to discuss some rumors. At that point, Lucius understood why his attendance had been crucial. Needless to say, it didn't help at all to take his mind off the touchy subject…
"Pettigrew wasn't aware of your marital strife. He couldn't have, or else he wouldn't have acted like a raging lunatic," Callisto commented suddenly as he was studying a flower which reached the height of his shoulders. Lucius scowled.
"It had little to do with his tactlessness, or the fact I'm emotionally involved with the separation. I'm angry at the fact he assumed I've been keeping up with Narcissa's affairs. She fled to the le Fays' estate. That's all I care to mention. The only other thing I know is Bella's made frequent trips there to talk to her."
"Bella?"
"Bellatrix Lestrange, my half-sister."
"Ah. I remember. Lestrange and Narcissa are very close. On that point, do you think it's true?"
"As worried as she can get over Draco, and as desperate as she can become, I won't entirely dismiss Pettigrew's accusations. But it doesn't explain how she found out about Voldemort's plans. Only you and I—and possibly the scraggly rat—know of it, and we've only recently found out I was entitled to know."
"That explains why he wanted to accuse you of telling her."
"He probably only said it to get my goat, and I haven't kept correspondence with her—"
"I'm convinced. It's possible Narcissa employed someone else to dig around and confirm the rumors she's heard. Personally I don't see the harm. It's her son, after all."
"That isn't the point. The others believe she's currently involving herself in a plan of her own. She thinks it's too dangerous for Draco to undertake a mission at this age without being instated—that I can imagine. Unfortunately I can also imagine her trying to talk Voldemort out of it, which is what she did apparently. Talking him out of an idea is trying to kill a Chinese Fireball with a Puffskein. And if worse comes to worst, I could also imagine her sneaking right under the Death Eaters' very noses."
"So am I hearing this correctly?" exclaimed Callisto, now a little put off. "You, her husband, would accuse her of betrayal?"
"I haven't said anything," Lucius reprimanded sharply. "The evidence isn't even solid. It's all based on womanish gossip, something I thought this lot was above."
"The way Pettigrew's carrying on, you may not have to say anything. If he decides to go ahead and tell Voldemort, the situation could get entirely out of hand."
"Not even Pettigrew is stupid enough to mention a word to him. Our master's been rather impatient as of late."
"Excuse me for saying so, but the same could also be said of you," Callisto said offhandedly.
Lucius stopped cold. "And just what exactly are you trying to imply?"
"You just proved my point," the dark-haired wizard replied. "Pardon me for treading on rough soil, but I believe you're still holding a grudge because she left. Granted I sympathize—"
"I couldn't care less about her or what's to become of her after this nonsense is over and if the accusations are actually true," Lucius dismissed flatly.
"Then allow me to ask another question. For being cooped up in front of a cauldron all day, I've been noticing your turbulent relation with your new servant," added Callisto with a sly grin. "Are you involved with Arthur Weasley's son?"
Lucius inhaled sharply and thought of a way to get around his question. "Even if I am, it wouldn't matter much. He's only here until I can get your payment."
"You know damn well I wasn't talking about business. I can see it in your eyes. Alchemists have eyes…better than the normal wizard. Just the day before you were talking to me briefly about his punishment; I saw you flinch when you recounted the incident," Callisto reminded. "Whenever he serves us in the dining room, there are moments of eye contact, and should I dare mention how sloppily he wears his shirt, yet you don't say a word? You don't even like to discuss giving him back, dropping hints about how you'd like to keep him a little longer. Well, Lucius? Do you love the boy or not?"
" 'Love'?" he scoffed. "That's a strong word. I don't think I care to use it."
"Not yet, at least. But I guess you shouldn't be discussing it with me, now should you? You have to answer to him."
Callisto gave a knowing grin and tilted his head in the other direction. Hearing running footsteps getting louder, his companion looked in the other direction to see the redhead in question approach them…
(End of Flashback)
He did answer that day, after Callisto immediately took up the hint and excused himself. No one said 'I love you', mind you, but Ron did come out and confess that despite the drudgery, he had enjoyed his time here. He also said, rather bluntly, that he understood how Lucius had felt when he whipped both him and Draco, and demanded if it had anything to do with his wife…
(Flashback No. 3)
…"I had to teach you a lesson. The Order can't save you as long as you're in my possession. That was the reason. I will say I felt some regret. I promised I wouldn't leave any markings, and the healing potion I gave you could only work so much."
"They're just about gone. Long as no one sees me naked, I'll be fine. But why did you whip Draco?"
"Simple. Not only was he being disrespectful, but he has total ignorance of what's happening between Narcissa and me."
"So were you taking your anger out on him?"
"…Possibly. You must understand, Ron, that I do not get emotionally involved or question my feelings. Whatever needs to be done will be done, no matter what. Whatever I feel is clearly conveyed, so I never have to stop and think about my emotions, and if anyone has a problem, only then can they face up to me."
"Then I'm asking you. I think we both have a problem…and for starters, your last sentence didn't make sense. You keep saying you don't like me in that way, but you just called me by my first name. I think that means you like me."
Pause of realization and bitter regret. "You are aware you're about to overstep your boundaries."
"Look, all I want to know is what's up with you and Mrs. Malfoy. It may clear up all this mess. I think it's because you're alone right now. You needed a friend and a servant around the house, and then you get me. I'm pretty good with what you tell me to do, and you're impressed. But then you start to miss your wife because it feels like I'm taking her place."
"Ridiculous. I. Don't. Miss. Her. If that nonsense were true, that would mean Narcissa would've had to do something useful around here. She was nothing but trouble, and never stingy with spending money. The harlot didn't mind spending a few hundred Galleons on jewelry, but she was more concerned with kissing her money goodbye than she was letting her husband out of jail."
"So that's why? She didn't want to spend money getting you out?"
"…Do you remember what I told you one day? About how the boy from Hogwarts got away from me and I was stuck with Narcissa? I don't hate that part alone, and it wasn't just that one argument with her; it was what the argument made me realize. She didn't marry me for love, either. She married for money. I know I said I didn't care one way or the other, but it made her that much more unbearable. Finally, a week after I was released from Azkaban, she transformed into what I considered more hateful than a loveless woman."
"What?"
"A hypocrite. She complained how I spent too much time with Voldemort, about how much of a handful I was. She told me how I never showed gratefulness, how I never showed affection, how much I neglected our son. And then she said she had better uses for her money than letting out an ungrateful husband like me just to save her name."
A pause on both persons' part. Ron was mortified.
"Then I told her…that she was a liar, that she was conceited, that if it wasn't for me she wouldn't have had a respectable name, how she never showed gratefulness NOR showed affection—not that I ever wanted her to touch me. I told her the many times she left Draco in my care to go to silly socials, told her about the many times she's flirted shamelessly. I also told her that it was my money, not hers, and if it wasn't for her sister we would've never gotten caught in the Department of Mysteries in the first place!"
A breath.
"Then I had only one last thing to tell her—to get the hell out of my house. And she did, all too willingly. And when she was gone, I realized that I was alone again. Being alone was better than being with her, of course…but it's still not a life I can live. Was I desperate when I agreed to you being my servant? No. It was the plain fact I needed one. Was I desperate when I forced you to make love to me? Maybe. So now we come to your question: why did I whip Draco…and not only him, but you as well. I whipped Draco for the simple reasons I just said, but I whipped you because I let myself get involved. I wanted to prove to myself I wasn't going soft; I wanted to convince myself that you were collateral property and nothing else to me."
"Am I?"
Lucius turned around to face Ron slowly.
"My original goal was to give you twelve lashes. As you can see, I couldn't bring myself to do more than half."
"…If I could stay a little while longer, until I went to Hogwarts, would you let me stay?"
"Foolish question." Surprisingly, Lucius revealed a smile. "Foolish for two reasons: you already know the answer, and I can't. I made a deal with your parents. They tell me Fudge managed to mix himself up in this affair. If I don't give you back, I could go back to Azkaban, then we couldn't be together at all. There; now I've confessed. Now answer my question."
"...All I can say is there's this other person I like back at Hogwarts I'm trying to sort things out with, and I'll make you a promise right now. If things don't work out, I'll come back for Christmas break."
"And if it does?"
Reluctance. "…I'd have to turn you down."
An almost inaudible sigh. "I'm willing to risk it. Until December?"
Nod. "Until December."
(End Flashback)
"Weasley."
"Hmm?"
"It's nine. You have to make breakfast now if we're to get to Diagon Alley by 2:45."
(End Chap. 16)
Me: (sigh) Nothing much else to say, really. Sorry this took so long to get out, peeps. Until Chapter 17!