errorYou must be logged in to review this story.
Books and Covers
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Lucius
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
17,308
Reviews:
80
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Lucius
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
17,308
Reviews:
80
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Moonlit Stroll
Title: Books and Covers
Author: Downdilly
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: HP/LM, LV/SS, RW/HG, Others Mentioned
Rating: R
Summary: Harry Potter was born to defeat the Dark Lord. Where does the Prophecy say
it's Voldemort?
Note 1: There's a very long list of warnings for this fic. I just wanted to make sure I
covered everything.
Disclaimer: Not mine. After so much fuss I'm not sure Ms. Rowling owns it either, but
that's what the lawyers say.
_____________________________________________________
By the time she tasted the burnt flesh smell that indicated the nearness of humans and their cooking, Nagini was hungry, grumpy and frustrated.
Hunting so far had been fruitless; too many of her wizard's humans walked through the woods surrounding her den for prey to linger, and over time she found herself going farther and farther afield. But burnt flesh meant humans were near, and in a place like this burnt flesh meant rough living, something that attracted all manner of mice and rats. If she were lucky perhaps they would have a cat or small dog; dog would be better than cat, since the heavy fur many cats sported stuck in her throat, but either one would mean no hunting for at least two weeks. Sleep was so much better on a full stomach!
Nagini slid through the tall grasses and occasional shrub, her stripes lending her camouflage second to none in the light of the moon. Coming upon the source of the taste suddenly, she hissed and flung herself backwards on her own coils. Not a cooking place, but a human!
Patiently she waited for the burnt-tasting human to react, and when nothing happened she lowered herself and slid forward the last few feet, carefully tasting the air and feeling the ground, stretching her small gifts of hearing and sight as far as she could. There was heat coming from the still body and she looped around it once before nudging it with her blunt nose and settling back to consider.
Absently she rippled her coils, seeking a more comfortable placement as she began to sort through what she'd learned. Burnt flesh and fresh, oozing blood, yes, and still alive but very weak. The human was slightly shorter than herself, but it would be many sheddings before she was of a size to swallow something this big. Flicking her tongue out again she considered what her magic told her; wizard-born, and male, likely very strong. There was the recent taste of cat, and under that a hint of dryness and scales that drew her to him, much like….
*Master?* she said, touching that connection that bound her wizard to her.
*Nagini?* she heard back. The voice felt tired, but not sleepy.
*Master, I have found the young Speaker. He is injured, and his nest-mates are not nearby.*
Excitement leaped through the bond, burning away all weariness. *Show me!* he demanded.
Stepping aside to make room, Nagini felt the weight of her wizard in her mind and sat quietly, letting him see and taste the body that lay curled before them, barely breathing. Thoughts flickered by, abstracts that Nagini had no desire to understand, and likely couldn't if she's had the inclination. Finally, her wizard spoke to her again.
*Show me the memory of the path you took in your hunt, Nagini.*
Obligingly, she brought forth the memory of her futile hunt, from the first empty burrow to first tasting the burning. She felt his glad caress across her thoughts, and then her mind was her own again. A tongue flicker later she felt the air around her change, and then the vibration of something large moving quickly towards her. The rhythm changed, became four feet; her wizard was here with someone else, likely one of his servants.
Seconds later, Nagini's wizard passed her on one side, layers of dark cloth flaring around him with the hiss of scales on skin, one of his servants flanking him. Voldemort knelt by the still figure, touching here or there with abnormally long, pale fingers before drawing his wand. Patiently she waited while her wizard snapped out a string of harsh, throat ripping sounds and manipulated the glow they produced with his wand, directing it to dance around the Young Speaker. Finally satisfied, Voldemort gently rolled the boy from side to back, and the servant let out a snake-worthy hiss from between his teeth before he spoke.
"Potter!" the servant spat the name from behind his mask. Nagini knew him now, the Moonlit One.
"Hmmm, yes. Most observant of you, Lucius." The Dark Lord's answer was mocking in its evenness.
Lucius drew his wand. "May I have the honor of finishing him off, my Lord?"
"*Crucio*."
The curse was incanted and dispelled seconds later with the same absent tone and a careless wrist flick. Voldemort never took his attention from the boy throughout.
"Does that answer your question, Lucius?"
Shaken at the unexpected punishment Lucius dabbed at his lip, tasting blood. The spell hadn't been held long enough to drop him to his knees, but had served to snap his head back and he'd sliced his lip on his teeth.
"Yes, Lord," Lucius muttered, searching his robe for his handkerchief. The boy's death denied him, he fell to studying his lord's nemesis, and quickly came to the conclusion that the boy wasn't long for this world anyways.
Potter's body was severely burned along the left side, streaks running across his legs, arms and torso; it looked like a gigantic, flaming handprint; the palm splayed across back and side, with long, spidery, taloned fingers leaving trails across his legs and arms. Raw flesh gleamed darkly wet in the moonlight, blackened skin becoming shadows and crooked, crackling lines. The boy's left hip looked to be shattered; bone shards poking through, his left arm looked not only shattered but burned down to the bone in places and the hand was clenched tight from damage, the whole of it drawn tight to his chest.
Voldemort made a considering sound deep in his throat. Lucius's attention flicked immediately back to the Dark Lord, who was carefully manipulating the injured body. From this angle Lucius could see the damage did not extend very far onto the right side, and it didn't appear that the muscles had been punctured; no organs spilled forth when the Dark Lord tipped Potter over, and although ribs showed in spots there was none of the pink froth of damaged lungs. Pale moonlight gleamed off blood-matted hair, and while patches of skin on Potter's face were reddened, the damage there was minimal.
Lucius quickly concluded that given prompt and expert medical attention, the boy would—unfortunately—live; his injuries severe and certainly life-threatening, but nothing that couldn't be healed by a competent touch.
"Omaopeia B'khayea Abed."
The ancient words, harshly accented, ripped through the night in time with three short, choppy wand movements. The glow around Potter moved from flickering to a solid shell, a light that would be a faint green in color in daylight. Moments later the glow sank into the boy's skin, and his entire body seemed to slump.
"Lucius."
"My Lord?"
"Return to the Manor and summon Vincent and Severus. Await their arrival and send them to my chambers. Tell them only that there is a severe burn injury. Should you mention the patient's name I will be…displeased."
Lucius bowed slightly before apparating away, his mind exploding with possibilities.
A long, clawed finger, pale skin reflecting moonlight off a light flecking of scales, traced over the jagged line of Potter's famous scar. Dark skin split open along the touch, spilling droplets of blood the boy could ill-afford.
Voldemort caught one of them before it rolled across Potter's forehead to fall to the grass. He rubbed it between his fingers before raising his fingers to his nose and sniffing. Cautiously he flicked his slightly forked tongue across his fingertips. Blood, yes, but something more. Richer, he decided, before setting the mystery aside for later thought. In a quick move, the Dark Lord scooped his opposite to his chest and apparated directly to his personal chambers.
Author: Downdilly
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: HP/LM, LV/SS, RW/HG, Others Mentioned
Rating: R
Summary: Harry Potter was born to defeat the Dark Lord. Where does the Prophecy say
it's Voldemort?
Note 1: There's a very long list of warnings for this fic. I just wanted to make sure I
covered everything.
Disclaimer: Not mine. After so much fuss I'm not sure Ms. Rowling owns it either, but
that's what the lawyers say.
_____________________________________________________
By the time she tasted the burnt flesh smell that indicated the nearness of humans and their cooking, Nagini was hungry, grumpy and frustrated.
Hunting so far had been fruitless; too many of her wizard's humans walked through the woods surrounding her den for prey to linger, and over time she found herself going farther and farther afield. But burnt flesh meant humans were near, and in a place like this burnt flesh meant rough living, something that attracted all manner of mice and rats. If she were lucky perhaps they would have a cat or small dog; dog would be better than cat, since the heavy fur many cats sported stuck in her throat, but either one would mean no hunting for at least two weeks. Sleep was so much better on a full stomach!
Nagini slid through the tall grasses and occasional shrub, her stripes lending her camouflage second to none in the light of the moon. Coming upon the source of the taste suddenly, she hissed and flung herself backwards on her own coils. Not a cooking place, but a human!
Patiently she waited for the burnt-tasting human to react, and when nothing happened she lowered herself and slid forward the last few feet, carefully tasting the air and feeling the ground, stretching her small gifts of hearing and sight as far as she could. There was heat coming from the still body and she looped around it once before nudging it with her blunt nose and settling back to consider.
Absently she rippled her coils, seeking a more comfortable placement as she began to sort through what she'd learned. Burnt flesh and fresh, oozing blood, yes, and still alive but very weak. The human was slightly shorter than herself, but it would be many sheddings before she was of a size to swallow something this big. Flicking her tongue out again she considered what her magic told her; wizard-born, and male, likely very strong. There was the recent taste of cat, and under that a hint of dryness and scales that drew her to him, much like….
*Master?* she said, touching that connection that bound her wizard to her.
*Nagini?* she heard back. The voice felt tired, but not sleepy.
*Master, I have found the young Speaker. He is injured, and his nest-mates are not nearby.*
Excitement leaped through the bond, burning away all weariness. *Show me!* he demanded.
Stepping aside to make room, Nagini felt the weight of her wizard in her mind and sat quietly, letting him see and taste the body that lay curled before them, barely breathing. Thoughts flickered by, abstracts that Nagini had no desire to understand, and likely couldn't if she's had the inclination. Finally, her wizard spoke to her again.
*Show me the memory of the path you took in your hunt, Nagini.*
Obligingly, she brought forth the memory of her futile hunt, from the first empty burrow to first tasting the burning. She felt his glad caress across her thoughts, and then her mind was her own again. A tongue flicker later she felt the air around her change, and then the vibration of something large moving quickly towards her. The rhythm changed, became four feet; her wizard was here with someone else, likely one of his servants.
Seconds later, Nagini's wizard passed her on one side, layers of dark cloth flaring around him with the hiss of scales on skin, one of his servants flanking him. Voldemort knelt by the still figure, touching here or there with abnormally long, pale fingers before drawing his wand. Patiently she waited while her wizard snapped out a string of harsh, throat ripping sounds and manipulated the glow they produced with his wand, directing it to dance around the Young Speaker. Finally satisfied, Voldemort gently rolled the boy from side to back, and the servant let out a snake-worthy hiss from between his teeth before he spoke.
"Potter!" the servant spat the name from behind his mask. Nagini knew him now, the Moonlit One.
"Hmmm, yes. Most observant of you, Lucius." The Dark Lord's answer was mocking in its evenness.
Lucius drew his wand. "May I have the honor of finishing him off, my Lord?"
"*Crucio*."
The curse was incanted and dispelled seconds later with the same absent tone and a careless wrist flick. Voldemort never took his attention from the boy throughout.
"Does that answer your question, Lucius?"
Shaken at the unexpected punishment Lucius dabbed at his lip, tasting blood. The spell hadn't been held long enough to drop him to his knees, but had served to snap his head back and he'd sliced his lip on his teeth.
"Yes, Lord," Lucius muttered, searching his robe for his handkerchief. The boy's death denied him, he fell to studying his lord's nemesis, and quickly came to the conclusion that the boy wasn't long for this world anyways.
Potter's body was severely burned along the left side, streaks running across his legs, arms and torso; it looked like a gigantic, flaming handprint; the palm splayed across back and side, with long, spidery, taloned fingers leaving trails across his legs and arms. Raw flesh gleamed darkly wet in the moonlight, blackened skin becoming shadows and crooked, crackling lines. The boy's left hip looked to be shattered; bone shards poking through, his left arm looked not only shattered but burned down to the bone in places and the hand was clenched tight from damage, the whole of it drawn tight to his chest.
Voldemort made a considering sound deep in his throat. Lucius's attention flicked immediately back to the Dark Lord, who was carefully manipulating the injured body. From this angle Lucius could see the damage did not extend very far onto the right side, and it didn't appear that the muscles had been punctured; no organs spilled forth when the Dark Lord tipped Potter over, and although ribs showed in spots there was none of the pink froth of damaged lungs. Pale moonlight gleamed off blood-matted hair, and while patches of skin on Potter's face were reddened, the damage there was minimal.
Lucius quickly concluded that given prompt and expert medical attention, the boy would—unfortunately—live; his injuries severe and certainly life-threatening, but nothing that couldn't be healed by a competent touch.
"Omaopeia B'khayea Abed."
The ancient words, harshly accented, ripped through the night in time with three short, choppy wand movements. The glow around Potter moved from flickering to a solid shell, a light that would be a faint green in color in daylight. Moments later the glow sank into the boy's skin, and his entire body seemed to slump.
"Lucius."
"My Lord?"
"Return to the Manor and summon Vincent and Severus. Await their arrival and send them to my chambers. Tell them only that there is a severe burn injury. Should you mention the patient's name I will be…displeased."
Lucius bowed slightly before apparating away, his mind exploding with possibilities.
A long, clawed finger, pale skin reflecting moonlight off a light flecking of scales, traced over the jagged line of Potter's famous scar. Dark skin split open along the touch, spilling droplets of blood the boy could ill-afford.
Voldemort caught one of them before it rolled across Potter's forehead to fall to the grass. He rubbed it between his fingers before raising his fingers to his nose and sniffing. Cautiously he flicked his slightly forked tongue across his fingertips. Blood, yes, but something more. Richer, he decided, before setting the mystery aside for later thought. In a quick move, the Dark Lord scooped his opposite to his chest and apparated directly to his personal chambers.