The Dying of the Light

The Dying of the Light
~ by Chthonia ~

The nightmares still plagued Lucius.

Two months, two whole months since he'd talked his way out of Azkaban, and still those black walls closed in on his dreams. He needed to sleep, he knew he needed to sleep, but first... First he needed to catch up with his correspondence, and review the latest vault statement from Gringotts, and plan the details of the next Death Eater attack...

He walked across the warmly-lit study to pour himself a drink. Rolls of parchment unfurled and then snapped smartly shut at his command.

He was still pacing when the bell echoed through the dark halls of the Manor.

The firewhisky glass shattered in his hand. He Vanished the mess with a stab of his wand, and glanced at the clock.

It was past one in the morning. Answering the door at such a time was not... prudent. The Aurors had been rather too attentive since Fudge had been forced out of office, days after authorising Lucius' release. Lucius no longer had such ready access to the corridors of power, nor the protection it afforded. And the seventies had taught him all about the Ministry's night-time knocks on the door.

The bell clanged again, with an urgency that threatened to wake the entire household.

Lucius sighed. He slipped his spare wand into the sheath concealed in his boot, and closed the door of the study behind him.

He was halfway towards the main door when he realised that whoever – or whatever – was on the other side had not triggered the Manor's wards. He stopped.

The interior alarms held; he could sense the faint pulsing all around him. They carried more than enough power to repel intruders, and they'd give Narcissa more than enough time to wake and get Draco out of the house. Assuming that was even necessary. It could be a friend at the door, after all.

A desperate friend, to come calling at this hour.

No, he'd let Narcissa sleep. Bad enough that he was having trouble sleeping, without making her suffer as well. She'd been showing the strain since that fiasco in the Department of Mysteries, and she'd looked even paler than usual when she'd arrived home from Diagon Alley this afternoon. She'd even gone to bed early.

Keeping a careful grip on his wand, Lucius approached the door. The unlocking spell worked only for those who were Malfoy by blood or oath; the Manor knew him as well as he knew the Manor, and he could feel it shiver at his command.

The great wooden door silently swung open. A lone witch stood outside, looking at him haughtily from beneath a tangle of hair.

"Bellatrix!" Lucius hissed. "I thought I told you not to come here!"

"Oh, but I didn't think you really meant it," she replied. "Are you so ashamed to be seen in my company, dear brother-in-law?"

"Get in." He scanned the lawns on either side of the tree-lined drive.

No one to be seen. But that wasn't the point – the Aurors would seize any excuse to come down on him. She knew he couldn't afford to have the most wanted witch in Britain turning up on his doorstep!

He closed the door and turned to face her. The moonlight filtering through the window above the door made her features appear even more cadaverous than usual.

"First of all," he said, "how the hell did you get onto the grounds?"

A slow smile spread across her sunken face. "Dear me, Lucius, has the hospitality of the House of Malfoy fallen so low? Mother always said that the Malfoys didn't quite live up to their breeding..."

Lucius clenched his fists, then stretched out his fingers. "Did she really, Bella?" he replied. "And would that have been before or after your sister decided to run off with a Muggle?"

Her thin lips twisted. "I have only one sister," she said. "And she shares your bed."

"And I only had one question, and you haven't answered it. How did you get here without setting off the wards?"

She shrugged. "Narcissa gave me the family key."

"She what?"

Bellatrix chuckled quietly as she held up a charred Manticore bone with a small silver-wrought snake coiled up its length. "Well, she did take a little persuading..."

"Give me that!" Lucius lunged for the bone.

His stomach lurched, and everything went black.

~ ~ ~

The dizziness receded, to be replaced by a slight feeling of euphoria and a dull ache in his shoulders. He was lying on his left on a long-piled rug. His arms were bound tightly behind his back.

Lucius tried to pierce through the fog cushioning his senses, before whoever had dared to do this to him realised he was awake.

Ministry dungeons weren't carpeted – he had reason to know about that. And they didn't have the heavy scent of myrrh and lilies, either. Which could only mean...

Bellatrix. The real Bellatrix. So his nocturnal visitor hadn't been a Polyjuiced impostor, unlike that damn Portkey. Not the worst situation, perhaps, but far from being the best, either.

He heard a movement behind him. He opened his eyes.

A hundred candle-flames were reflected in the curved silver blade pointed at his throat.

"Really, Lucius," his captor murmured, tilting the knife in her hand, "how many times have I told you not to let your guard down when you're angry? That was far too easy."

"What do you want, Bella?"

"It's Bellatrix!" she snapped. "And that's how you'll address me, dear brother-in-law, unless you wish to become more intimately acquainted with this..." She trailed the tip of the knife along his jaw, enough to make his skin tingle. Not enough to draw blood.

Lucius said nothing.

Bellatrix made a sound that was half-way between a sigh and a giggle.

She leaned over him, holding her knife cold against his cheek. With her other hand she brushed his hair from his face, lifting the long strands high and letting them run back through her fingers and pool around his head.

"You have beautiful hair, Lucius," she said. She lifted it again, so that it shone in the candlelight. "You know, I hated my hair when I was little. I envied Narcissa so very, very much..." He watched her as she wound a few strands around her fingers, close to his scalp, pulling almost enough to hurt. "You won't mind if I keep some, Lucius, will you? Just to remind myself?"

Lucius gave her a glacial look. If she thought he was ever going to permit her to remember this, she really was as crazy as Macnair kept telling him.

"What do you think you're playing at?" he snarled.

She scowled. "Playing? You think this is just a game? It's about time you learned to take me seriously!"

Lucius said nothing.

She stood up and walked around him, the glint of the knife matching the glint in her eye. Then she grinned.

"Of course, Lucius, if you did want to play..."

She knelt down, placed the knife on the rug and bent her head so that her dark eyes were inches from his. She giggled.

"Because I think I could be persuaded..."

He was a split-second too late to pull away before she twisted both hands in his hair, holding his head in place as her mouth met his, her tongue lightly exploring his lips before questing deep into his mouth. He glared at her as she moved one hand to claim the back of his neck in a motion that was... strangely like Narcissa, except that Narcissa's steel was hidden behind her delicate beauty, and Bellatrix was all unyielding power...

At last she lifted her head, and smiled.

Lucius took a few, carefully controlled, breaths.

"Do I kiss like a Dementor, Lucius?"

"How the hell would I know?"

"Ah." She trailed her finger across his cheek. He jerked his head away, looking up at the heavy wooden beams that spanned the low ceiling. "Of course, you wouldn't, would you? You didn't have to endure fourteen years living with those creatures. Did you ever think of us at all, Lucius? Did you ever wonder what it was like in there?"

"Of course I thought about it! I-"

"I saw it once, you know. It's supposed to be almost unbearable to watch, but I have to say I found it rather... fascinating."

She giggled. Lucius turned his head towards her. Her eyes glittered in the flickering light.

"I could do it, Lucius. Shall I show you?"

She didn't mean it literally, of course. But still he felt an icy prickle at the back of his neck. Just where she'd been touching him with those rough-skinned fingers that proved that all the Softening Spells in the world couldn't counter fourteen years of Azkaban.

She wrapped her cold hands around his neck, both thumbs hard against his jaw. "This is how it goes," she whispered, her voice catching in her throat. "They have longer hands, of course, so it's not exactly the same... but you'll forgive me for that, won't you, Lucius?"

She pressed her thumbs up under his chin. He threw back his head, trying to pull out of her grip, but her hands held him like a vice.

The candle-flames danced in her eyes as she lowered her head to his.

"What do you think about, Lucius, when they come close?" she murmured, close enough for him to feel her breath on his cheek. "Do the horrors in your past haunt your dreams... or does the great Lucius Malfoy scorn such weakness?"

And she clamped her mouth over his, thrusting down with her tongue, and he twisted and rolled onto his back to try to dislodge her but she followed his movement, always holding on as if she would never let go and damn it he was not responding to his crazy sister-in-law as she dug her nails into his neck, and there was nothing he could do as their tongues intertwined and there was nothing he could do as she withdrew, her dark eyes dancing with so much more than the reflection of the flames.

"Oh Lucius," she said, "I always wondered what lay behind the ice..."

She spread her fingers on his chest and pushed him flat against the floor.

That incense was making his head spin.

He tried to think. If this was what she wanted from him, then perhaps he would let her have what she wanted – not because he had any inclination to humour her, of course, but simply as the best way of getting her to drop her guard. And when she did, he would make absolutely certain that Bellatrix Lestrange née Black paid the price for her presumption.

"Such lovely robes you have," she murmured, rubbing a dark velvet fold between her fingers. "But then, you Malfoys have always been so concerned about appearances..." – she stroked her right hand over his hair – "... and status..." – she wound it round and round and round her fingers – "... and power." She slammed her hand down flat against the floor, wrenching his hair so that he gasped at the pain. She held him there, with his head tilted back to relieve the pressure and his chin tilted up to expose his throat.

She ran a finger lightly from his chin to his collarbone.

He shuddered.

Enough was enough. Lying bound at the mercy of a Dark witch might be a staple scenario in those magazines sold by the seedy Knockturn Alley shops that he never deigned to enter, but it most definitely was not Lucius Malfoy's idea of fun.

He twisted his wrists in their bonds, feeling for a knot. There wasn't one. She must have tied off the cords at his elbow, then – somehow it didn't surprise him that she knew that trick. He rolled over and kicked his legs back, feeling for the wand-sheath in his boot.

It was empty.

She flicked her gaze over his wrists, his arms, his fruitless struggles, and smiled.

"Yes, Lucius, I know you like things to be done properly, I understand, really I do..."

Lucius stared up at the ornate candelabra swinging gently above them.

"Let me go, Bellatrix."

"Already? Is this all the staying power you can muster? Narcissa led me to expect more from you."

"Narcissa would never discuss that with you!"

"She's my sister, Lucius. You really don't understand women, do you?" Bellatrix rested her left hand on his shoulder, leaning forward so he could see her mocking eyes. "And one thing I have never understood is why Lucius Malfoy, who always had the best of everything, stooped to marry a younger sister." Her black hair brushed across his face as she bent over him. "It should have been me, Lucius. Would you have pulled your Ministry strings for me then? Would Bellatrix have been Lady of the Manor for the last fourteen years, playing hostess to the Minister, dressed in the finest silks that Galleons could buy?"

Lucius gave a harsh laugh. "Don't be ridiculous, Bellatrix. You never cared about any of that. You married for love, remember?"

He winced as she dug her fingernails into his shoulder. "So you didn't? Are you saying you didn't love my sister? I do hope you don't mean that..."

"Narcissa knew what to expect. I've never given her cause to complain."

"Ah, but did you know?"

"Know what?"

She grinned down at him. "She was never supposed to be yours, Lucius. She was going to marry Horatius Nott, before that filthy Muggle Tonks decided to drag our family name into the mud."

"That's a lie! Narcissa and I were betrothed for years before..."

"Oh, Lucius, such touching naiveté. Did you really think we Blacks don't hedge our bets? And it's just as well we did, isn't it? Would you really have married her after that, if you hadn't believed you were both bound by the agreement?"

Lucius said nothing.

Bellatrix laughed. "Is it just the thought of being second-best that bothers you so much?" She bent lower, so that her lips were nearly touching his ear. "Poor little Lucius," she whispered. "Such a sulky little boy when he doesn't get his own way..."

With a snarl of rage he rolled towards her, bringing his knees up to brace himself as he tried to knock her aside. He ignored the pain that flared across his scalp as she tightened her grip on his hair and forced his head down. The knife, he had to get the knife...

But it was in her hand, and it was pointed at him, and then the flat of the blade was pressing against his throat. Lucius froze.

"Oh dear," she scolded. "Didn't little Lucius understand? This is Bellatrix's hideout, you see, and in Bellatrix's hideout Bellatrix is in charge. Did no one ever tell you the rules?"

"Don't patronise me, you demented hag!"

"Aww, little Lucius doesn't like it when he isn't in contwol... but Bellatrix will make it all better if he just lies down like a good little boy."

He glared at her. She grinned, and tilted the knife a fraction.

"Do you like the feel of steel against your skin, Lucius?" she murmured. "Because I think I like the look of it... though a darker colour would make a striking contrast, don't you think? And you do have such exceptionally pure blood..."

Lucius kept very still. Her pupils were very large. He'd seen them like that before, behind her Death Eater hood, when only her eyes and her curves and the fluid savagery of her spellcasting had marked her out from the others.

She giggled. "Do you really think I'd do it?"

The power-crazed harpy was toying with him. He hated that.

"Well, I doubt you want my blood all over your lovely rug," he sneered. "Although, you always did tend to make a mess of things, didn't you?"

"Oh, I can be messy, Lucius," she hissed. "Are you sure you want me to prove it?"

She tilted the blade a little more. He held his breath.

"No?" she said. "In that case, dear brother-in-law, you really should do something about your insufferable attitude. And you can start by lying down when I tell you to lie down."

He kept his sneer in place, but he slowly lowered himself down. She followed his movement with her knife, not lifting it away from his throat until the back of his head was resting on the floor.

"That's better," she said. "You're so sweet when you do as you're told."

Lucius glared, but said nothing.

Her hand was still wound in his hair, and she pulled his head back as far as it would go. He bit his cheek – he'd be damned if he'd let on how much that hurt.

She leaned forward and trailed the tip of the knife across his forehead, just where the skin was pulled tight. It sent little shivers down to his toes.

"Does that hurt, Lucius? Let Mummy kiss it better..."

He clenched his fists. But she didn't kiss him – she just followed the path of the knife with her tongue, tracing small circles just below his hairline. He dug his nails into his palm, concentrating hard on the pain in his hand and not on how very sensitive that other patch of skin was at that particular moment...

She lifted her head and smiled at him from beneath her hooded eyes.

"See, Lucius? It's not that bad after all, is it? What a bwave little boy you are."

"Stop it, Bellatrix. Your games don't interest me and they never have."

She laughed. "Yes, even as a little boy you thought you were too good for the rest of us. But now little Lucius is all grown up, and Bella knows how to play big people's games..."

She set aside the knife and stroked down his throat with a fingernail. He shuddered, as he had before. But this time he didn't struggle, not even when she drew her finger away and let her tongue wander there instead, not even when she took a tiny fold of his skin between her teeth and bit down so gently that it was not quite painful, nor even when she followed that up with a row of compelling little bites along his jaw, the last one sharp enough to make him swallow a moan... because she obviously wasn't going to let him go until she'd finished with him, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it, and that thought really shouldn't be stirring him in such – inappropriate – places, because really there was nothing remotely erotic about this situation at all...

He was glad he was wearing a full robe. This had the potential to get... embarrassing.

She sighed, and giggled, and nibbled on his lower lip. He closed his eyes, waiting for her to claim his mouth again and his lips were parted not because the mere thought of it sent little bursts of flame licking across his groin but because she wasn't going to give him a choice anyway...

She shifted her attention to his upper lip and he could feel her breath caressing the moist skin where her tongue had been and damn it why the hell didn't she just get on with it?

He opened his eyes. Hers were inches away, bold and bright and black.

He could still feel her breaths, fast and ragged. His blood was hammering in his head and damn the woman for doing this to him, but he needed to get her off her guard...

He lifted his head to meet hers – but her firm grip on his hair held him back.

"Patience, Lucius," she murmured, drawing a finger lightly down his cheek.

"Bella..."

He gasped as she twisted his hair.

"Didn't I tell you to call me Bellatrix?"

"Bellatrix, then, for the love of Merlin..."

She laughed, brittle and bright like a bubbling fountain. And released his hair.

And before he could even think about it his mouth was seeking hers, hungry for that battleground of tongue and teeth and fire where he'd show her who was really in control...

But she pulled away and stood up, and her wand was in her hand and pointed straight down at his head.

"Get up." There was no laughter in her voice now.

"What?"

"Do I really need to repeat myself? I said, get up."

His smouldering need ignited to fury. "Damn you, Bellatrix! I do not take orders from you!"

She frowned. Her eyes narrowed. And then she began to laugh, a low, dark laugh that seemed to well up from the room itself.

"Is that so, Lucius?" she said.

He watched her warily as she walked around him. He rolled onto his back to face her as she knelt down, but she stopped him with a hand on his hip. He lay there on his side, glaring at the edge of the rug, ignoring the warmth of those fingers that so firmly held him in place.

She wedged her knees against the small of his back. He couldn't even kick at her in that position.

She reached to her left, gently squeezing his shoulder before running her hand down to the tips of his fingers. His arms twitched against the ropes.

She laughed again. She leaned over to trace a little circle on his throat, before drawing her fingertips down the front of his robe, sliding across his chest and his stomach and further, along towards...

Lucius closed his eyes in mingled fury and despair.

He stifled a groan as her fingers sought out the place he'd most wanted to hide. And there was nothing whatsoever he could do to stop her...

"Well, well," she cooed, "at least someone stands to attention at my command."

"Take your hands off me!"

"Ah, but you don't really mean that, do you, Lucius?" She chuckled. "If I'd known you could be so... responsive, I'd have done this years ago."

"Really, Bellatrix? You never wanted anything to do with me!"

"But Lucius, you never gave me a second glance. How could you have any idea about what I wanted?" He dug his nails into his palm again as she idly stroked the bulging fabric beneath her fingers. "If I had only known..."

"I'd never have let you touch me!"

"Are you quite sure about that?"

He laughed. "I never had the slightest interest in joining your list of conquests. You can be absolutely sure of that."

"Oh, I know. You were too busy making your own, weren't you? But no one's watching here, Lucius, you don't have to pretend anymore. And I promise to give you my undivided attention... just as you will give me yours..."

He would have rolled away from her, if she hadn't grasped his hip firmly with her left hand. He would have struggled, if it could have made any difference.

"I always liked this robe on you," she said. She pulled up the heavy velvet folds and wriggled her hand underneath. "Did you wear it specially for me?"

Her fingers closed around him. He bit into his lip.

"Yes, Lucius," she breathed, "I think you could have been persuaded. You weren't quite telling the whole truth about that, were you? But then, you never do."

She tightened her grip and moved her thumb in a slow circle and he jerked back against her knees but her hand was still there and it really was rather difficult to pay much attention to anything else...

"I don't like people who lie to me," she was saying, her thumb still caressing the most exquisitely sensitive part of his body. "And I don't like people who let me down. I think our Lucius needs to be punished."

He groaned, a groan that had everything to do with his disgust at her predictability, and nothing whatsoever with what her hand was doing.

"Oh, of course," he said through gritted teeth. "And what, exactly, did you have in mind?"

She let out a gurgling high-pitched giggle. "I'm not telling you that! That would spoil all the fun!" And she made a slow movement with her wrist that definitely hadn't featured in Flitwick's Advanced Charms class.

He closed his eyes and tried to think of a particularly difficult Arithmancy equation. He was not going to give her the satisfaction...

"But, Lucius," she said in a low voice that obliterated all thought of Magimathics, "I still don't think you're taking this seriously."

She lifted her hand away, save only for the tantalising touch of a single feather-light fingertip. He held himself perfectly still, trying to stop his hips arching towards those oh-so-dextrous fingers.

"You..."

"Yes, Lucius?"

He said nothing. What did she want him to do, beg? As if Bellatrix Black had ever been able to do anything worth begging for!

And besides, it really was a good thing she had stopped. Most definitely.

"There," she murmured. He shuddered as she brushed her hand down the front of his robe. "You're going to be a good boy now, aren't you? Because good little boys know how well Mummy can reward them, if they do as she says. And Mummy says it's time to get up..."

He twisted his head so that her face was in view, stared down his nose and treated her to his coldest sneer.

She stood up, stepped over him and pushed the pointed toe of her boot under his chin. "No? Well, perhaps I could get used to the sight of Lucius Malfoy grovelling at my feet."

Damn the woman! Malfoys grovelled to no one! Certainly not half-crazed witches like her!

He struggled into a sitting position.

"Oh, very good, Lucius! Half-way there... Go on, I know you can do it."

He shrugged, crossed his legs in front of him, and gracefully got to his feet. "There you go, then, Bella," he said, drawing himself up to take full advantage of his extra three inches, "as it seems to be so important to you."

She struck him across the face.

"Important?" she shrieked. "You know nothing about what's important! Nothing's important to you, nothing except saving your own miserable skin! I don't know why I bother with you – you never even had a heart, let alone a soul!"

Lucius took a step back. And another. Then he swiftly crouched down and felt for the knife. He twisted it round in his hand, trying to find the rope.

Bellatrix lunged forward and pushed him to the floor. She grabbed at the knife. He slashed wildly behind him. She screamed. There was a moment of silence, and then:

"Expelliarmus!"

The spell threw him against the wall. He sat up. There was no sign of the knife.

"Were you looking for this?" she said sweetly, holding it up so that it gleamed in the candlelight. She seemed oblivious to the blood dripping from her hand.

He got to his feet and shrugged. "Well, you didn't seem to want it any more."

"Ah. You really shouldn't jump to conclusions, dear brother-in-law."

She pushed him against the wall.

"That was very naughty of you, Lucius," she murmured, eyes unnaturally bright beneath her dark hair. "And you know what happens to naughty little boys, don't you?"

"Yes, I know." He sighed. "You really are getting rather tedious."

"Oh?" She burst into giggles.

"This isn't funny, Bellatrix," he said.

"Oh, but it is." She wound a piece of cloth around her injured hand. "You mustn't blame me if you can't see the joke."

She stepped backwards and whipped out her wand.

"Incarcerous!"

Thick ropes snaked out of the air, wrapping around his arms and legs and chest as the cords already binding him shifted and loosened and fell away, leaving his wrists no longer tied together but bound firmly to two large iron rings set into the wall on either side of his waist.

A drop of wax splattered on the floor.

"Mmm." Bellatrix smiled slowly as she let her gaze wander from his hair to his booted feet, the tip of her tongue visible at the corner of her mouth. "Do you have any idea how much I've been looking forward to this?"

She smoothed his robe over his shoulders and shook his sleeves gently to remove the creases her cords had left. Then she straightened the folds of the fabric beneath the rope wound loosely around his chest, stroked down towards his waist, bent down...

He thrust his knee upwards but the rope around his ankle jerked it back before he could connect with her face. He swore furiously, grabbing at the iron rings to regain his balance.

"Temper, temper," she chided, her hand curling over precisely that part of him he least wanted her to touch.

"Get your damnable hands off of me, witch!"

"Dear me," she said, "I really think someone needs to teach you some manners."

He sucked in his breath as she curled her fingers more tightly.

"Go to hell, Bellatrix."

"Oh no," she said, shaking her head as a broad smile spread across her face, "I have no intention of doing that. Not ever."

She straightened up and combed her fingers through his hair, bunching it together so that it draped down over his right shoulder. He stared stiffly past her.

She stepped back, head tilted slightly to one side.

"Perfect," she crooned. "You really have aged remarkably well."

Which was more than could be said for her, although seeing her standing there in the flickering light, with the darkness hiding the brittleness of her hair and her dark hair hiding the gaunt angles of her face, he could almost picture her former beauty. And she had truly been beautiful, he remembered that. Most of the boys at Hogwarts – and not a few of the girls – had admired her. Few had dared to approach her, and even fewer had got any further than approaching. None of those had ever spoken about it afterwards.

Lucius watched as she fingered her curved silver blade, and a bead of sweat trickled down his back.

But when she came to him, and stood on her toes, and put her hand on the back of his neck to draw his mouth down to hers... Well, she had never been one to ignore, had Bellatrix Black. Had he been able to think at all, he might have wondered whether it was the fear or the denial of fear that added to the urgency of the kiss, but he would have found it difficult to come up with an answer.

And she pulled back, and there was nothing but their breathing between them, and she reached up and drew the blade down his cheek.

This time there was no question about the pain. This time there was blood on the tip when she lifted the knife away.

Lucius swallowed.

Her lips curved in a slow smile. She turned away and walked over to a low cabinet on the other side of the room.

He looked down to where she'd bound his hands to the wall, but the tight knots were nestled out of reach at the back of each wrist. He could have bent down to untie them with his teeth, of course – were it not for that rope holding his shoulders against the wall.

She knew what she was doing, did Bellatrix. He, on the other hand, did not. He'd heard the rumours, of course, about what she could do with her beauty and her body and her knowledge of the Dark Arts, but he'd never been one of the curious ones.

Well, all right, he had been curious – anyone would be curious – but he'd never been this curious.

"Bellatrix." His voice didn't waver at all. That was good. He continued, almost managing his usual tone of command. "I think you should untie me now. This has gone far enough."

She stood up. When she turned back to him her smile was even broader than before.

"On the contrary, dear brother-in-law. This has not gone nearly far enough."

She held in her hands... what looked like a coiled silver snake. As he watched, it lifted its head and hissed softly at him. And then another head lifted, and stared at him with great silver eyes. And a third head pointed towards him, sniffing the air with its flickering tongue.

And Lucius Malfoy knew fear.

Reflected candle-flames writhed across the thing's body – living images captured by the silver in the dark...

He tore his gaze away and looked around the room, trying to find something that would help him. He'd talked himself out of more sticky situations than anyone knew; he'd always found people to be reasonable once he'd explained his point of view, or at least what he could offer them. The trouble was, Bellatrix had never been reasonable.

He forced a laugh. "Don't be ridiculous, Bellatrix. You know you never managed to make that work."

"You're right," she said, her fingers idly stroking each of the three heads in turn. "I never did. But that was before I had that unique opportunity to study Dementors in, well, not exactly their natural habitat, but still... Are you sorry now, that you left me there for so long?"

"There was nothing I could do, Bellatrix," he said quietly. "You have to understand that."

"But you got yourself out quickly enough, didn't you?"

"That doesn't mean I could have done the same for you! Not back then, not after you'd been caught red-handed at the Longbottoms' house!"

"So you sacrificed us to climb back up the greasy pole, isn't that right? And by the time you got to the top, you'd forgotten all about your old friends. So now, Lucius, it's time for you to pay us back."

One of the snake-heads hissed, tongue flickering between long silver fangs.

Lucius wrenched at the ropes binding his wrists.

"No, no, Lucius, you'll only spoil your beautiful skin. You wouldn't want to do that, would you? I've lost my own beauty, oh yes, I know that. Don't deny me the pleasure of yours."

She was smiling again, with a glint in her eyes that... He'd seen it before, but seeing it from this angle gave him a new and wholly unwelcome perspective.

"You can't do this, Bellatrix," he said. "I'm the Dark Lord's second-in-command!"

"No, Lucius. You were the Dark Lord's second-in-command."

He stared at her. She grinned.

"Aww, has little Lucius had his toys taken away? Don't worry, Mummy will look after him..."

"Stop it!"

She giggled. "If you insist, dear Lucius."

She ran a finger from the silver-eyed head down along the coiled silver body.

"You see," she said, "the Dark Lord finds your achievements to date... well, Lucius, what are your achievements to date? You got one of Dumbledore's minions arrested, drove that nice Ministry worker insane and then sent him that deftly murderous little pot plant... you manipulated the Minister until he lost so much credibility that they've actually replaced him with someone competent... but in the end, you conspicuously failed to deliver the one thing the Dark Lord asked for."

"And you could have done better? I didn't notice you handing Him that Prophecy!"

"No," she spat. "You made sure of that, didn't you?"

"What, by trying to stop you attacking Potter like an insulted Hippogriff?"

"At least I didn't waste time gloating over that insolent little runt! I kept my attention on our mission – and the Dark Lord knows it!"

"Really?" Lucius sneered. "And what other lies did you dazzle Him with while the rest of us were safely out of the way? Or was it your... non-verbal talents that convinced Him?"

She pushed her hand hard against his chest. "I thought I told you to mind your manners!" she hissed. "Has it escaped your notice that you are completely at my mercy?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why no, Bellatrix. I believe you've made that point abundantly clear. What escapes my comprehension is why that should alter my attitude towards you – unless, of course, you are not completely decided on my fate after all?"

She laughed, rocking back and forth as the three silver heads swayed with her. "Oh, very good, Lucius, but I'm not the Minister for Magic, you know. You can't get round me that easily." She pulled out her wand and pointed it at his face. "I am the Dark Lord's Chosen! I outrank you now. You will respect that, at least!"

"You? That's ridiculous! You don't have the money, the contacts, oh, let's see... the intelligence, the breeding-"

"Shut up!" She slashed her wand to the side. Lucius arched backwards as the fire lashed down his left side. His head thumped against the wall.

"What I have, Lucius, is a means to give the Dark Lord what he's always wanted most of all. And I'm not talking about the petty politics that seem to obsess you so."

One of the snake-heads rubbed against his arm. Lucius winced at the chill. She pulled it back.

"Not yet, my sweet," she murmured.

It hissed quietly, as if it were actually alive.

She returned her attention to Lucius. "And I also have loyalty. That's something you've never been able to understand, is it?"

His nostrils flared. "And, of course, you also have such unshakable confidence in your duelling abilities that you need to hit an opponent who can't fight back."

"Which, of course, you have never done yourself."

He curled his lip, but said nothing.

"You know," she said, "I'm still not sure whether you just weren't up to the job, or whether you were actually intending to fail. But ultimately it doesn't matter, does it? Now that the Dark Lord can surround himself with supporters He can trust, He's decided that you should have the honour of rendering Him this service."

She laid the snake-thing on the ground.

"Yes, Lucius." She rocked back and forth with silent laughter. "The Dark Lord knows how to reward His unfaithful servants..."

It slithered onto his left foot. He tried to shake it off, but it quickly wound around his ankle and started to climb his leg. He kicked at it with his other foot, but the ropes tethering his ankles were too short and the thing was already coiling round his knee...

He drew in a shaky breath. "Bellatrix..."

She ran her finger down his cheek with a touch like cold fire. "Fear doesn't suit you, Lucius," she murmured. "But it does taste so sweet..."

And he didn't resist as she probed his mouth with her tongue, because all his attention was on those other three flickering tongues probing up his thigh and between his legs and... oh Merlin... because this couldn't be happening, it just couldn't, he'd spent his whole life ensuring it couldn't...

Bellatrix giggled. "Relax, Lucius. This is your chance to make history. I almost envy you."

The thing was cold around his waist now. He met her gaze. Her giggles subsided.

"Bellatrix, please. I have a family..."

Her mouth twisted. "You rub that in my face and ask for sympathy? You've had fifteen years with your son! That's more than I'll ever have."

"But... it's your sister. Draco's your nephew! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Oh, yes." She smiled.

The three heads spread out across his belly, cold against his skin and his heart because there was no hope left and there never would be any hope... He tried not to squirm as they started to squeeze under the rope she'd coiled round his chest.

She plucked at the rope to let the third head wriggle through. He threw himself forward, straining at the knots holding his wrists and ankles, desperately using the pressure of the rope to try to scrape the thing off him. But he'd never be able to dislodge it, never be able to get away from her...

She watched with dark amusement as he subsided with a strangled cry.

"There, there, Lucius. Don't fret. Everything's going to be all right. You know Mummy doesn't really want to hurt you."

Yes, he knew she didn't want to kill him. That was the worst of it.

She rested her hand on the left of the three velvet bulges made by the snake-heads creeping upwards beneath his robe. "Slowly, my sweet," she whispered to it. "Let us savour every moment. I've been waiting for so long..."

And all three heads paused, trembling against his skin. There was a quiet rattling sound from under the fabric.

He could feel himself shaking.

"Surely you must realise," she said, "that your family is better off without you? Nobody trusts you, you see. So concerned with your standing at the blood-traitors' Ministry... You should have remembered your friends, Lucius. Did you really think we wouldn't notice?"

"You don't understand..."

"Oh, but I do. You want to protect your family's position. And I'm giving you the chance to do it. It's the obvious step, don't you see? No one will hold Draco responsible for your misdeeds, after all, and I know that Narcissa will put the family's gold to good use until he comes of age. Yes, Narcissa knows how to be loyal to her family..."

She giggled. One of the snake-heads hissed.

"Narcissa wouldn't-"

"Don't try to tell me," Bellatrix said, "that you wouldn't have happily sacrificed her for the sake of your bloodline, were your positions reversed? You're a liability, Lucius: to your family, to your precious Ministry, to the Dark Lord... and, most especially, to me."

She stroked the velvet over each of the snake-heads in turn. He tried to keep his face expressionless as they inched up towards his throat.

"Don't worry about Narcissa," she said. "I can take care of her, better than you ever could. And if she starts to miss what only you could give her, there's always Polyjuice, isn't there?" She wound a strand of his hair around her finger, and let it fall back across his chest, bright against his dark robe. "A whole lifetime of Polyjuice," she whispered. "I've always wondered what it would be like to have such beautiful hair..."

He watched her wavering smile as the snake wound itself round his neck, as the left head licked at the blood oozing from the cut on his left cheek, as the middle head lay cold against his right, as the right head coiled round to nuzzle under his chin.

So this was how it ended... The candlelight seemed somehow more bright, the burning myrrh and her heavy perfume more sweet, the blood pulsing though his veins more intensely alive. He clung to it all, knowing it would make no difference in the end.

Two of the heads struck simultaneously. He screamed.

It wasn't just the pain.

But he could still feel the blood running down his cheeks. He could feel her sleeve as she wiped it away, saying there there Lucius it's all right, and he could feel himself trying to shake those fangs out of his skull as he cried out don't Bella don't and he could feel her hands on his cheeks as she held his head still. And he could feel her lips on his and her tongue pushing into his mouth, and he could feel her body pressed against his as she wrapped her arms around him and he threw himself forward to the limits of the ropes she'd bound him with, and pushed himself against her, and returned the kiss with all the passion he knew he'd never feel again. And perhaps he should have turned away, but it was the last choice he was ever going to make and he was choosing to cling to life with the same ferocity he'd always intended to live it and besides, he did care about what she did to him afterwards even if he'd never know about it and even if it made no difference, he wanted her to remember and regret it forever or until the end of her days.

She bit down hard on his lip. He blinked. Her hands were still cradling his face.

"Oh Lucius," she said. "You know, Mother used to say that a Malfoy's pride went deeper than character, that it was bred into your flesh and your bones and I really hope that's true because if it's not, playing with you just isn't going to be the same..."

There were a dozen and none things he could say to that, but he never got the chance because as she released him the third silver snake-head pushed into his mouth.

The icy tongue flickered across the roof of his mouth. He gasped for breath but that was stupid because his nose was clear and it wasn't his life they wanted anyway. But the thing was cold as a Dementor's hand on his lips and it was rattling again, sucking away at the deepest part of him just as the left head feasted on his thoughts and the middle head tore at his dreams, and he wished he understood Bella's spell better because if there was any way to sabotage it he would have done because devouring a soul to secure the immortality of another was just so incredibly wrong.

And then those silver fangs stabbed his tongue and the last thing he knew was the warm blood and the freezing pain and the candles behind her blurry face shining hopelessly like faint stars in a night that would never end. And an inescapable voice that might have been hers or the snake's but it didn't matter because there didn't seem to be any difference any more...

"Yes, Luciusss. Come to Mummy..."