Some text taken from Sister Carrie by Theodore Dresier (published in 1900).
Lucius could sometimes see the coquet from the painting in the angry, sullen boy that stood hunched in front of him, especially when Snape moved. He had, at some point, developed a slow, liquid stalk that was both menacing and seductive and made all the more intriguing by the fact he seemed unaware of its power. But more often Lucius was reminded of Snape as a little first year, unwashed and knobby-kneed and swearing like a sailor.
"I can't take this," Snape said stiffly and tried to thrust the pouch of gold galleons back into Lucius's hands.
Lucius pushed it back. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course you can. It's as easy as slipping it into your pocket. And you need a cloak and new shoes."
"I'm not a whore."
"Of course not. No one thinks of you in that way."
"The Dark Lord does," Snape hissed.
Lucius shot a worried glance around him, but the street was thankfully empty. Now that the danger had passed, Lucius felt himself grow angry with this irritating child. "You're no more a whore than Adonis was, or Hyacinthus, or any other mortal beloved by the gods."
"Adonis and Hyacinthus died," Snape pointed out, which Lucius ignored.
"What do you want then, Snape? Do you want to stay in Knockturn, saving up for your mastery knut by knut, year after year, until you die, used up and grown old before your time?" Snape looked down at his worn shoes. "Well, is it?" Lucius demanded.
"No."
"What he's asking from you is no great thing, and he has promised greater rewards than just money." Lucius dropped his voice, "Bellatrix's magical power has been growing."
Snape's eyes widened slightly. Magical cores grew with children, but upon reaching adulthood that all stopped. However deep their well of power was upon reaching the age of seventeen or eighteen, there it would remain. The fact that Bellatrix's core had started to grow again was only a testament to the Dark Lord's power.
Snape let his eyes drift over Diagon. There it was, so great, so fine when one is not poor. An elegant coach, with a prancing pair of bays, passed by, carrying in its upholstered depths a wealthy wizard. The coin purse, pressed into Lucius's chest, drew back slightly.
"What will you have if you turn him down?" Asked Lucius. There was no subtle undercurrent to the question. He imagined that Snape would have nothing at all of the things Lucius thought worthwhile.
"At least get yourself a nice cloak. The money is a gift. There are no strings attached to it. Why shouldn't you have a nice cloak? We'll get you a set of rooms, and a new pair of shoes. You needn't be afraid."
"Do you think I could get my mastery?" Snape asked.
"Sure," Lucius answered. "I'll help you."
Snape allowed himself to be drawn in by Lucius and together they set off. In Madam Malkin's, they found that shine and rustle of new things that Snape's dark eyes lit up at seeing. Under the influence of Lucius's radiating presence, it all seemed within reach. Snape looked about and picked a black cloak with a gray silk lining. The saleswoman helped him on with it, and, by accident, it fitted perfectly. Lucius smiled when he saw the improvement.
Snape turned before the mirror. Lucius could see a warm glow creep into his pale cheeks.
After Malkin's they went to a shoe store where Snape was fitted for boots. Lucius stood by, and when he saw how nice they looked, he commanded, "Wear them."
"Come, I know a place where you can stay," Lucius said, sweeping Snape along.
With the Dark Lord's permission, Lucius had leased a large flat in an upscale Muggle neighborhood in London and furnished it to his liking. He took Snape there now. The outside was made of white marble and a man stood ready to open the wrought-iron door for them. The apartment was located on the fourth floor. Lucius pressed the key into the lock and guided Snape inside. The moment Snape stepped into the parlour, his eyes lit upon the painting hung above the fireplace. His painting. The blood drained from Snape's face and Lucius was fairly certain the boy had stopped breathing as he watched his own nude body writhe on the sofa.
"This is why?" Snape breathed out.
"Hm? What do you mean?"
"I thought…" Snape swallowed. He looked like an animal caught in a cage. "I thought Avery must have told him about me. That I was smart, or powerful, or–" He cut himself off, unwilling to say anymore than that. "I didn't realize he saw that painting, that it was the reason why he asked to see me..."
"You're lovely–" Snape bit off a hysterical laugh. "Severus–" He looked at Lucius at the sound of his own first name. "The Dark Lord wants to see you tomorrow night. In these rooms."
Severus's lips were bloodless, but he nodded. Lucius smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "It'll all turn out alright, you'll see. Life will be so much better. You'll never want for anything again. I'll check in on you again soon, but why not settle in the meantime? I've set up a laboratory for you just through those doors there. Go. Experiment. Have a little fun. Goodbye, I'll see you soon."
Lucius left the boy standing there, wondering idly if he would try to run. No, he decided. Snape is much too smart for that. He traveled through the city, heading north to Grimmauld Place.
He knocked on the door and was surprised to see another house-elf instead of Kreacher's scowling face. "Lucius Malfoy, here to call on Narcissa and Regulus."
He was led through the foyer and into the sitting room. The house was gloomier than ever before. The drapes were all pulled shut and the mirrors were covered in a dark cloth. The gas lamps were turned low and the passages were dark despite it being a cheerful, sunny afternoon. None of the sweltering summer heat managed to penetrate Grimmauld's stone walls. It was as cold as death. This was a house in mourning.
In the sitting room, Lucius found Walburga Black and her niece, Narcissa, each resting in her own chair. Walburga, dressed in heavy black silks and lace, her head covered in a mourning veil, was working on her embroidery, while Narcissa, also dressed head-to-toe in black, had her nose stuck in a book. They both lifted their heads, greeted him warmly, and summoned a house-elf to bring tea.
The Black sisters – Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa – and all been auctioned off at birth. Bellatrix was the only daughter so far to fulfill her marriage contract; Lucius had been engaged to marry Andromeda, but it was broken when she eloped with a mudblood, and Narcissa was first betrothed to her cousin Sirius, Heir Black, and then to his younger brother Regulus when he was disowned. Regulus, being much younger, had to first finish his schooling before the marriage could be fulfilled. They were supposed to have wed this summer, but the wedding had been pushed back after the death of Regulus's father that April.
Lucius took a seat beside Narcissa. "Where is Regulus?" He asked as he sipped at his tea.
Walburga gave an indelicate snort that Narcissa was quick interpret. "He's tending to Kreacher. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but the little thing appears quite ill. Regulus is beside himself."
"He's being ridiculous," Walburga insisted. "It's just a house-elf. It should join its forebears. There would be no greater honor for it than to have its head fixed to the house it was bound to."
The hallways were decorated with the decapitated heads of past house-elfs.
"Regulus is too attached to the thing," Walburga continued, her voice taking on a petulant, childish air. "He spends all his time with it now. What about me? His poor mother?"
"It's just until Kreacher is well again," Narcissa said with a strained smile. Lucius didn't know how she could stand it, shut up in this house, waiting on Walburga hand-and-foot as if she was a house-elf herself.
"Shall we go up and visit him in the sickroom, then?" Lucius suggested and set down his tea.
"Leaving already?" Walburga cried out.
"We'll be back down soon," Lucius assured her and quickly set off up the stairs with Narcissa, his hand hovering above the small of her back but not quite touching, both of them eager to flee Walburga's oppressive presence. What a happy day it must have been for Orion when he was finally free of her.
"He's put Kreacher into his own bed," Narcissa explained as she guided him up to the very top of Grimmauld Place.
"His own bed?" Honestly, that was just excessive.
"You know Regulus," Narcissa simply said.
"Unfortunately," Lucius conceded and let his hand press against her back, his fingers sliding around her waist.
He let go when Narcissa knocked on Regulus's bedroom door. Her cousin beckoned them both inside and Lucius almost missed Kreacher, swaddled as he was in bedsheets, on a too-big bed. Regulus was sitting in a chair next to him, his elbows braced against his knees. There was a full glass of water next to him.
"What's wrong with him exactly?" Lucius demanded.
Regulus flitted his gaze over him before turning back to the house-elf. "I'm not sure," he murmured without looking up.
"I know how fond you are of him, but he is rather old–"
"I'm not letting him die!" Regulus hotly announced.
"I'm not saying you should, just that these things are to be expected. There's no use making a scene over it," Lucius said with a roll of his eyes. "Now, I've just come to inform you two that I've installed Snape in his new flat. I think he'll go through with it, but he's still a bit skittish. If you could go over tomorrow afternoon and check in on him I would appreciate that. Oh!" Lucius lit on an idea. "Bring Bellatrix. She can give him a run-through of what to expect. I do believe that boy is a virgin."
Lucius watched as Regulus turned cherry red. "What's the matter, Reggie? You're acting as if you were a blushing virgin yourself," Lucius laughed, knowing full well that he was.
"I'm just uncomfortable with this whole thing."
"That's the Muggle taint talking. There is nothing immoral about sex magic, and even if it is what does it matter? Whatever the Dark Lord requires from us, we should be happy to give it to him. Sex is a natural thing, it's only because of the influence of Christian Muggleborns that it's been warped and reclassified as something Dark." Not that Lucius believed Dark magic was anything to be shunned either.
"Still…" Regulus shrugged. "What exactly does the Dark Lord need this power for? If he's immortal then why doesn't he just storm the Ministry now and be done with it all? Why play these games with Bella and Snape and–" He cut himself off and looked angrily down at the house-elf wheezing on the bed.
Lucius's gaze grew cool. "You have barely just turned eighteen, and some impetuosity is natural. But you will want to be very, very careful of how you speak of the Dark Lord from now on."
Regulus ducked his head and didn't look up again until Kreacher opened his bleary eyes and croaked out, "Water?"
Regulus was up in an instant, helping the house-elf to sit up and drink. Lucius opened the bedroom door. "Come, let's leave him to it."
"I hope your cousin has enough common sense not to say anything of that sort where other people can hear," Lucius said as they went down the stairs. He could hear the soft clicking of Narcissa's heels behind him. "That damned fool will get himself killed–"
Two small hands suddenly grabbed his waist and pulled him from the stairs, forcing him through an open door into a room Lucius vaguely recognized as the library. He was spun around, and Narcissa pressed herself against his chest, pulling at his hair to yank his head down far enough for her to kiss. "Lucius," she breathed against his lips. "Shut your pretty mouth and lift your robes."
Lucius had a retort resting on the tip of his tongue, thought better of it, and let Narcissa tumble him onto a Chesterfield sofa.