Fan Fiction ❯ Deus Ex Machina ❯ Steel and Blood ( Chapter 1 )

 

One after the other Gregory, Ginny, Vincent and Draco stumbled into the Guards' headquarters, exhausted, tired and emotionally drained. Snape wondered how they would fare in the future when their first venture into Voldemorts inner sanctum had taken this much out of them. Especially Drake looked shaken. He was white as a sheet, his eyes haunted and shifting.

 

Tia waited for them in the debriefing room. She had hot chocolate ready for them, laced with a bit of amaretto. The spies settled into the comfortable chairs and relaxed a fraction after the first few sips of cocoa. Furnished in warm and light colours and a few minor spells inscribed upon the walls, the room had been designed for its calming and relaxing atmosphere. It served its purpose well.

 

“Report.”

 

That one word made the three spies snap back to attention. Draco took a deep, shaky breath.

 

“Remember how we always thought my father was Voldemorts right-hand man? He isn't. My mother is.”

 

-----

 

- About 18 years ago -

 

Lucius woke brusquely, jerking upright, his lean body covered in cold sweat and his breathing fast and shallow. A nightmare. He'd had a nightmare. Hadn't he? There had been blood and pain and mindless fear. His whole body hurt and a splitting headache settled behind his eyes as he tried to remember, to refocus.

 

He was right where he was supposed to be, in the luxurious, lavishly furnished Masters Bedchamber at Malfoy Manor which had become his when he had married Narcissa, not quite five months ago, thus officially becoming the head of the Malfoy family.

 

His marriage to Narcissa had been quite satisfying so far, in more than one regard. She was attentive to his needs, a charming hostess at parties, fun company on his business travels abroad and as hot as any high-class whore in bed. She even was pregnant already, which was unusual. Most pureblood women took years getting pregnant…if they got pregnant at all. Arranged marriages didn't always turn out this good and Lucius counted himself a lucky man indeed.

 

The only flaw so far had been that she had kept needling him to join that fool Riddle. He was certain though that he'd manage to break her off this annoying quirk soon enough. Sure enough Mudbloods and Muggles had to be reminded of their place. Wholesale slaughter was quite a bit over the top though….and not to mention bad for business.

 

Why, just this morning he'd had had a conversation with Narcissa about it. Over breakfast. He had told her….he had told her….

 

Bile rose in his throat, and he retched, but nothing came…there was nothing left…She had told him…

 

Narcissa had smiled at him as she poured his tea. “Are you sure you don't want to reconsider, dear? Voldemort is the most powerful wizard there has been for centuries. He is destined for greatness. And every pureblood wizard worthy of that name will join him. Together we shall wipe these dirty mudbloods from the face of the earth and we shall rule supreme. The world will be ours! Just think of it!”

 

Lucius had sighed, exasperated. He didn't want this kind of conversation, not again.

 

“Dearheart, Riddle might be a great wizard, but he's also a raving maniac. Mudbloods and Muggles may be a nuisance, and they must definitely be put in their place every once in a while…but still, the Wizarding World has always profited from them. I happen to be rather fond of newspapers, sports cars and good Cognac. I also absolutely love the way you look in that little black Chanel dress. The wizarding world has always taken the inventions and comforts from the Muggle world and has improved on them. Muggles might be inferior, shabby creatures…but they ARE rather inventive and they do provide the necessary work-force for the lowlier jobs. Muggles are a necessity to the wizarding world, albeit a rather distasteful one, I'll grant you that. “

 

He took a sip of the tea Narcissa had poured, and flipped the pages of the newspaper he was reading.

 

“Furthermore, apart from the fact that we need muggles, the Malfoys have NEVER bowed to anyone, and I do not plan to be the first Malfoy to debase our family thusly.”

 

Tired of the fact that he was having this discussion AGAIN, he heaved an exasperated sigh.

 

“Since you are a Malfoy now too, I expect you to understand and respect this. Really my love, as a dutiful wife, you shouldn't keep pestering me with this silliness.”

 

Lucius had known something was wrong when Narcissas' face had grown dark and stormy, and she had sneered at his words, something she usually never did. Usually she would only have pouted a little, something he found quite endearing. He'd then softly rebuke her how such behaviour was most unbecoming to his wife and then he'd shower her with kisses, and the argument would be forgotten, for a while at least.

 

Not this time though. This time, something was different.

 

“You fool!” Narcissa hissed, rising from her chair. “You brainless, gutless, dirty little worm. You are not worthy of calling yourself a Pureblood. You are not worthy to lick a Purebloods' boots! I see now that marrying you was a mistake. You may have a Pureblood pedigree, and believe me, I will make use of that, but fundamentally, you're nothing but a spineless coward. A waste of magic. You should have been born a Muggle!”

 

A feeling of dread settled at the pit of his stomach as he tried to remember what had come after that….Narcissa had reached for her wand, while he himself had jumped up from his chair. The chair had fallen backwards, thunking loudly as it hit the floor. He had been angry, outraged at Narcissas words. How could she? How dare she?

 

There had been darkness then, and after that….nothing, he could remember nothing.

 

Lucius fingers curled to fists, tightly gripping the silken blankets. The damned slut had betrayed him, done something to him…she would pay for it. It was imperative that he move fast. He needed to find out what she had done. He was in danger and he knew it. What hare-brained scheme had she come up with? Only one thing was certain at this point. Narcissa was just as mad as that Maniac with a capital “M”, whom she admired so much. And he hadn't noticed. He'd let down his guard, and now he would pay the price for it. No doubt that she had opened Malfoy Manor to the Death-Eaters. The Malfoys had always been a suspicious and paranoid bunch, and so the security at Malfoy Manor rivalled that at Hogwarts. And now, for the first time in its existence, the security of Malfoy Manor had been breached. He felt it in his bones. He would have to move fast. There were some secret exits he hadn't told Narcissa about yet.

 

He quickly slipped out of bead, and headed for the wardrobe. He'd just grab a few clothes, then he'd be off. He didn't see his wand lying around, so she must have taken it. It didn't matter. The secret exit that he planned to take would lead him straight from this room to a hidden Meeting-Chamber, where he had concealed a spare wand. From the Meeting Chamber he would take another secret passageway to a small muggle village a few miles off. Nobody would ever suspect Malfoys of hiding a secret exit smack in the middle of a Muggle village, but, throughout the centuries, they had. Mostly it had been used by Malfoy husbands sneaking away to see their Mistresses.

 

Lucius winced as he clothed himself. Every movement hurt, and he felt weak like a newborn kitten. What had the bitch done to him? He'd find out, and then he'd make her pay.

As he slipped into one of his white silk shirts, he noticed the bandage on his right arm for the first time. He briefly wondered what he would find beneath it, but right now he'd have to make his getaway. There would be time to ponder recent events and changes once he was moderately safe. Survival first.

 

After breathing a few words of enchantment to a small, carved Krait decorating one of the bedposts, the small snake came to life, slithering to one of the walls, only to disappear somewhere in the wooden panelling. Just a few seconds later, part of the wall silently slid back to reveal the staircase leading down into the darkness.

 

Still, Lucius couldn't resist a short glance backwards to the bed before leaving. Only a short while ago, he had lain in that bed with his wife, trading loving caresses and sweet nothings, and he had been happier than he had ever been before in is life. He remembered gently stroking the soft swell of her belly, where his heir, his son was growing, and he remembered the tingle of delight when he had felt the baby move for the first time….

 

Tasting ashes in his mouth, he started his descent.

 

It didn't take him long to reach the secret Meeting-Chamber. It was hewn straight into the granite bedrock below the Manor, and it could hold up to a hundred people. It hadn't been used in ages and all the furniture had crumpled to dust long ago. The only things to remain were the sculptures of his ancestors lining the walls. In the dark, Lucius felt his way from one sculpture to the next. His wand was hidden behind the one of his great-grand father Mercutio. Nearly there. Very soon he would be able to make some light and to defend himself should the need arise. There! He had it.

 

“Lumos minimus” he whispered. It wouldn't do to get careless and maybe give away his position by using too powerful a spell…

 

He had is wand. He was nearly safe. Now it was time to take a short look and see what that bandage was hiding. She'd probably cut him up for some dark ritual. As he knew from experience, a lot of them required a pound of flesh and a pint of blood…

 

He fumbled with the bandages. As he unwrapped them, his fingers were no longer steady. The bandages unravelled and dropped to the ground, revealing a skull with a serpent, branded into his arm.

 

Candles flared all around him. Time seemed to slow down as he turned. It felt as if he were moving underwater.

 

Somebody had taken great pains to remodel the chamber. It now featured chandeliers and candelabrums, lots of black velvet draperies, and a gigantic throne made of blackened bones. On it sat Voldemort, his dark hair slicked back and he was smiling like a Cobra. At his feet Narcissa curled, one hand resting almost possessively on the Dark Lords' thigh.

 

“Welcome back dear. CRUCIO”

 

 

He fought. He might have been raised as a pampered little aristocrat, but his lust for power and his desire to always be the best had made him hone his skills to perfection. His teachers had been the best money could buy and his training had equalled that of an auror. He fought for himself and for the honour of his family. He fought for his right to do as he pleased and for the future of his unborn son.

But in the end, it wasn't enough. In the end, he lost.

 

His failure abandoned him to the tender mercies of his wife and her Master.

 

At first, Lucius didn't scream. Wouldn't scream. Wouldn't beg.

But Crucio wasn't the only thing used this night or in the nights that followed. Voldemort had other spells at his disposal, hexes, curses….but even these weren't the worst.

 

A soft and lingering touch, gentle, almost kind, trailing pain in its wake. Little pains and irritations followed by agony almost too great to bear. A kiss, rough and hard and thoroughly male, followed by humiliation. All of it, over and over and over again.

 

In the end, Lucius curled up in the middle of the room, broken and sobbing, while the stony eyes of his ancestors watched on.

 

Nacissa smiled.

 

And Lucius knew that he was still inside a nightmare…and that this time, he would not ever wake up.

 

----------

 

-Two days ago -

 

This was their last briefing before the revelry. Draco was tired and all he wanted to do was get back to bed. As usual, Snape was waxing wroth on the finer points of being a big, bad Death Eater a sermon they had heard dozens of times before and Draco suppressed a yawn.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, now that you have proven yourselves to Voldemort by killing Arthur Weasley and myself, you will be admitted into his Inner Circle.

Voldemort wanted me dead very, very badly, and you have fulfilled his wish quite spectacularly. Mr. Weasley, being a traitor to the Blood was a welcome bonus, as were your mudblood schoolmates.

In addition, you probably managed to impress the Dark Lord by the sheer cruelty and ruthlessness of your killings, especially you Ginevra.”

 

Ginny made a face as if she had swallowed a Bertie Botts vomit flavoured bean, a display of emotion that made Snape frown, but Mr. Weasley reassuringly patted his daughters hand.

 

“Mom's gonna kill me” Ginny mumbled.

 

“Miss Weasley, I pray you to recall that a spy cannot afford to betray his true feelings, no matter what. Or were you planning to get us all killed when you joined this little venture?”

 

“No sir.”

 

Ginny sat up straighter, a mask of cool indifference settling over her features.

 

Snape was worried. He had trained these young people well, but no amount of training could prepare them for the cruelties they would witness and be forced to participate in during the next few months. He hoped it would be only months. They were holding up well so far, especially the little Gryffindor, but still he worried.

 

“This brings me to our next topic. Your need to uphold and reinforce the impression you have made so far, which will be quite a challenge. Tonight, Voldemort and the members of his Inner Circle will do their worst in order to test your resolve your and commitment. You will be asked to watch and to participate in unspeakable acts. Expect anything ranging from the exchange of sexual favours to torture and even murder. But then, you already know that.

 

I wish to impress on you once more the importance of not betraying your true feelings. You have done well so far, but things will get rapidly worse. “

 

He drew a deep breath before continuing.

 

“Watching the walls turn red with the blood of innocents, hearing their screams of agony and seeing the silent plea for help, for mercy in their eyes and NOT INTERVENING will take everything you have. It will break you, and still, you will have to go on, for the sake of others.

 

As far as the “revelries” are concerned, you might be able to avoid or even prevent some of the more horrible acts, but I strongly recommend that you only chance it if you can come up with a diversion that's good enough to fool Voldemort, which will be a rare thing indeed. For the rest of it, you will have to do as Voldemort orders and expects you to.

 

Apart from all the drawbacks I have just mentioned, you also have one asset, and I recommend that you use it to the fullest. In the eyes of the Dark Lord, you are strong, successful and merciless Death-Eaters. His elite. And you are in his good graces. As it is, you don't have to bow to anyone but the Dark Lord himself. Assert your positions as Voldemorts most loyal followers and remember that sometimes, the Dark Lord will prefer pain and humiliation over death.”

 

Only a few hours later, Draco and his friends were standing in front of the Dark Lord, and Draco was having a really hard time following Snapes' instructions. Things weren't that bad yet, but seeing his father, his proud and arrogant father, kneeling at Narcissas feet, wearing nothing but a pair of tight black leather pants and a slave-collar, eyes downcast, had been like a punch to Dracos' gut. Somehow, he managed to get through the required formal greetings before stepping up to his mothers' side. It cost him, but he even managed to politely kiss her cheek and compliment her on her evening dress…and her luscious pet.

 

Obviously pleased with the attention, Narcissa yanked at her husband's hair. “Say hello to your son, Lucius.” she hissed.

 

Lucius raised his eyes to Draco. There was defiance in them, and quiet despair. Draco held his gaze, silver eyes gleaming, and a slow smile curved his lips. A small, almost timid smile, like that of a small child that had unexpectedly been gifted with the kitten it had always been wishing for.

 

“….so pretty….”

 

Draco raised his hand to his fathers' jawline, gently caressing it with his fingertips. Then he leaned in for a kiss, his mouth hovering over his fathers lips. For a few seconds, which seemed to stretch into eternity, they shared the air between them and Draco felt his fathers' breathing hitch. Gently, Draco started plundering his fathers' mouth, his tongue darting between the teeth for a quick taste and then he drew back.

 

“….so sweet….and quite unexpected too….”

 

Draco turned to his Mother, his voice filled with wonderment. “How come?”

 

Narcissa had frozen for an instant as Draco kissed his father. She had known her son to be rotten to the core, but this certainly had surprised her. It seemed as if young Draco would exceed even her in depravity.

She tittered.

 

“Sadly, when I married your father, I soon discovered that he lacked the ambition for true greatness. He proved quite unwilling to help purging the mudblood taint from the face of this world. He thought it would be sufficient to contain its' rot, to isolate the dirt from our Pureness! Can you imagine the stupidity?

 

Well, My Lord and I soon taught him better. These days, your father is like a well trained Hound. And despite his flaws, his intelligence and ferocity make him leader of the pack. He is the one to lead the hunt at his Masters command, and his performance is perfect, mostly. Still, sometimes he will set off on his own, and then it is necessary to bring him back to heel. And if he can't be brought back to heel…well, you know what one does with old dogs…”

 

She tittered again and Draco raised an eyebrow at his father.

 

“And he has been setting off on his own lately, has he?”

 

“She was only ten Draco. Ten! An innocent child…” Lucius growled through clenched teeth.

 

“Are you trying to appeal to your sons' better nature, Lucius dear? And here I thought I had broken you of attempting the impossible.”

 

She tsk'd and her voice turned hard.

 

“Only ten…and a Mudblood which would have attended Hogwarts next year. You were under orders to eliminate her, not help her escape! Well, you're not getting of easy this time. Go to the centre of the room and kneel there. A bit of punishment is due, I think.”

 

Draco had a hard time keeping his smirk fixed on his face as he watched his father obeying the order he had been given. Once he was kneeling on the floor as he had been instructed to, Narcissa waved her wand and whispered a few nasty incantations. Draco could see his Father shivering, yet not making any attempt to break away from the position he had been assigned to. Glass plates appeared and formed a kind of cage around Lucius, sealing themselves around him with a soft “thunk”.

 

Draco forced himself to tear his eyes away from the spectacle. He took a sip from his wine and then turned to his mother, his Death-Eater persona reasserting itself.

 

“Really mother…only shutting him inside a glass cage seems a bit tame as an entertainment. I do assume there's a bit more to it than just imprisonment?”

 

Narcissa giggled, a sickening sound.

 

“Oh yes my dear. You'll see. You're going to enjoy this. “

 

Draco turned back to the glass cage, taking another sip of wine, smirking slightly.

 

“I am going to hold you to your promise mother. This better be good.”

 

And it was. A few seconds later, water started bubbling into the cage, seemingly coming out of nowhere. A cold, magical fire sprang to life beneath the cage, bathing it in an eerie light, and now the water shimmered blue-green and silver as it played around Lucius knees and ankles.

 

After an hour or so, the water reached Lucius shoulders, and his long white-blond hair began to float in the small waves. He looked incredibly beautiful, almost ethereal, like a sea-spirit on its way to the shore.

 

Dracos' stomach churned, but still he kept on making light and witty conversation with his mother and McNair, who had joined them.

 

Ginny was on the other side of the room, slapping around one of the boys that served the drinks. It seemed that her champagne hadn't been prickly enough to suit her liking. Crabbe sat in an armchair next to her and offered advice on all the kinds of abuse which she could inflict on the poor boy. Ginny was taking it. They were laughing as the young man fell to the ground, clutching his sides and whimpering in pain.

 

Goyle and a few of the younger Deatheaters were in a corner, playing darts. The lines of a dartboard were painted on the stomach of a brunette girl, slim and sobbing in anguish. A spell stretched her tautly against the wall, unable to move, and the lines had nearly disappeared beneath the blood running down her sides. Goyle had just scored bulls-eye in her navel, and it looked like he was winning.

 

“Snape would be so proud of us…” Draco thought bitterly.

 

“Ah, now we're getting to the best part” his mother crooned, nudging him.

 

By now, the water had reached the blondes' face, and he had thrown back his head in an attempt to keep his mouth over water, baring the taut lines of his throat. His breathing was ragged, shoulders heaving, and his hands were pressed against the glass.

 

Draco took another sip of his wine as he watched the water rise. Floating, his fathers' hair seemed incredibly long, the white strands playing around his well toned body like a shroud.

Lucius wasn't able to maintain his cool composure any longer. As the water filled the tank completely, he started thrashing, slowly at first, then more frantically as panic claimed him. His hands hammered against the glass, and the dull sound resounded in the room, drawing the attention of those present.

 

Voldemort chuckled dryly and Draco knew that right here and now, he might have to watch his father die.

His father, who hadn't joined Voldemort of his own free will.

His father, who wasn't a remorseless, cruel murderer.

His father, who had sneaked out of the Manor with Draco to teach him how to fly a broomstick when he was a kid.

He had been only six at that time, but he remembered what his father had told him the first time they had soared together through the clouds: “Do NOT tell your Mother about this, Draco. She'd only worry.” And his father had winked at him, and the flying lessons had become their little secret. But it hadn't been about Narcissa worrying, had it?

 

“It's a pity, really” Draco drawled. “I finally get to watch my father suffer, and I only get to watch it once.”

 

Silence spread through the room. The other Deatheaters had expected him to be a bit cold and callous, but they certainly hadn't expected him to earn the title of “Ice Prince” this thoroughly. The silence was broken by the chiming laughter pealing from Narcissa lips. The sound was starkly at odds with the weaker growing movements of the man drowning in the middle of the room.

 

“Ah my Lord, he is truly a worthy follower of the True Blood, isn't he?” she chuckled.

 

“Yes Narcissa, he certainly is.” A small, cold smile played around Riddles' lips. “And it would be indeed regrettable if he didn't get a chance to humiliate his father himself.”

 

A whispered incantation and the glass disappeared, dropping Lucius to the ground. He coughed, choked and coughed again, lying on his stomach, finally drawing one wracking breath after the other.

Draco casually walked over to his father, and dropped to one knee in front of him. He grabbed a handful of wet hair and yanked his father upright. Steel grey eyes met steel grey eyes. One pair bright with fury, the other blank and dulled.

 

“This isn't over yet.” Draco hissed. “I'll make you pay for all the times you failed the Cause. I'll make you pay for all the times you failed the Malfoy name and I'll make you pay for all the times you failed ME. As long as I remember, you never paid attention to me, unless you wanted to take a belt to my back for disappointing you. But I have news for you, father dear. It's YOU who is the disappointment. You are the failure. Other fathers would teach their sons how to ride a broomstick when they were kids, but you wouldn't even do that. You were worthless as a father, but we WILL get something worthwhile out of your services as long as there is enough life in you to serve our Lord.”

 

Draco slammed his fathers' head down onto the floor, and it hit the ground with a sickening thud. Blood started to seep between the pale strands of gold, tinting them a dark red. Draco rose gracefully, then strode back to his mother and his Lord and bowed before them.

 

On the ground behind him, steel grey eyes closed as Lucius slipped into unconsciousness. Steel grey eyes that were no longer dull. Eyes that hid the first flaring sparks of a long forgotten fire in their depths.