Tempt the Devil: Writ in Blood

[FIC] Tempt the Devil: Writ in Blood (1 of 3). Lucius/Quill, R, SM, blood play

Writ in Blood
Part I of III in the \"Tempt the Devil\" arc (Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape are both profoundly affected by their Hogwarts potions professor, during and after attending Hogwarts -- these are a couple snippets.) HOWEVER, THIS FIC PART DOES WORK AS A STAND-ALONE.

By: Xandria, Copyright © 2003 Xandria (http://www.akasa.bc.ca/fanfic)

Author\'s Notes for this chapter: Erotic is using a feather, kinky is using the whole chicken, and depraved is using a Punishment Quill.

Thanks to Kashu Arashi for helping me with Professor Diavolo\'s name and encouraging me to transform him into an original character I love and may write more about in the future.

Massive thanks to Kashu Arashi and Bonibaru for the beta and making this fic so much better than it was -- especially Kashu Arashi who suffered through several revisions and taught me tonnes. And thanks to hainuwele for a beta, and Tilly for the final beta and whacks across the head that delivered additional enlightenment.

Spoilers: Books 1 - 5

Disclaimer: All obvious HP characters and concepts are property of their respective owners. No infringement is intended.

Rated: R

Warnings: SM and blood play. Some may consider this \"chan\" since Lucius is about 13 years of age, however his \"partner\" is not human -- use your best judgement.

Summary: Lucius serves detention and discovers his passion along with the edict by which he attempts to live the rest of his life by.

~ * ~

Light seeped sulphurous yellow beneath the door of the potions classroom. The boy in the hallway could not imagine a more uninviting color. He raised a pale, slender hand, and rapped upon the door twice. He wanted to see the end of his detention come as quickly as possible and return to his studies, currently the long-term effects of the Cruciatus curse.

\"Come in, Mr Malfoy,\" a steady voice beckoned.

Lucius straightened his spine, raised his chin a fraction and entered the shadow-enshrouded room; the only light sources were two candles -- one on Professor Diavolo\'s desk and the other on Lucius\' desk, residing front and centre.

Despite his youth, Lucius felt he was beyond the clumsy stage of a typical boy his age, and was grateful he could walk without tripping over his feet or leaning his body at an ungainly angle. He made his way confidently to the front of the classroom where Professor Diavolo stood -- willowy with sharp angles, very high cheekbones and deep auburn hair.

\"Sit down, Mr Malfoy.\" The smile that formed on Professor Diavolo\'s face tilted his eyes up at the corners, his irises all but vanishing from view, suggesting that he was more beast than man. He unfolded a long thin arm and uncurled his gloved fingers to point at Lucius\' desk on which the candle, parchment and a long, black quill rested.

Lucius immediately noted the absence of ink, but thought it best not to mention this in case pointing out this fact would worsen his punishment. He merely nodded once and settled behind the desk, arranging his robe neatly. He never spoke more than was required of him, finding useless words such as \'yes, sir\' and \'no, sir\' an affront to his superiority. His mother had once called him unnaturally obstinate before his time.

\"You will be writing some lines for me this evening, Mr Malfoy.\" Professor Diavolo slid a finger along the desktop, just skimming the black feather of what Lucius now realised was a very sharp quill.

\"And what lines would those be, Professor?\" Lucius made no motion to begin his punishment, patiently waiting until he had been given all of his instructions. He disliked the idea of lines for his obsessive need to fashion perfect, elegant cursive script would make his hand cramp.

Professor Diavolo smiled enigmatically. \"I will not get caught.\"

Lucius bristled, and then attempted to recover from his unwanted display of emotion. He was, in truth, disturbed that his activities had been discovered. The stain on his self-image was so dark, he felt he had berated himself enough that this evening\'s reprimand was not required. But Professor Diavolo, like everyone else, truly did not understand what drove Lucius nor did they understand the inner workings of his complex mind. The professor probably did not believe that his use of the Imperius curse upon another student was a simple, inquisitive experiment -- the memory of which was Obliviated from his fellow student\'s mind -- or else why would he have been given this detention? No actual harm had been done to the student. Lucius brought his left arm to hover over the desk, fingers flexing towards the sinister looking quill. \"Do you have some ink for me, Professor?\" he asked quietly.

\"You will require none, Mr Malfoy. Now please begin.\" The potions professor turned on his heel, black and green silk swirling around an almost skeletal form, and glided towards the dais where his desk resided.

Bemused, Lucius felt his brows knit together. He asked one more question. \"How many lines would you like, Professor?\" He took the quill into his hand and gazed intently at the professs bas back.

Without turning around, half way up the stairs, Professor Diavolo paused. The fingers of his right hand, loose at his side, curled in on themselves like a dead spider. \"I will let you know when to stop, Mr Malfoy.\" That said, he moved up to his desk, settling behind the table and did not cast another glance in Lucius\' direction as he bent over to begin grading assignments.

Increasingly puzzled, although no less daunted by the task, Lucius pressed the very sharp black tip to the parchment in front of him and wrote \'I will not get caught\'. He hissed and withdrew the quill from the parchment as though the physical connection of the two items was responsible for the unexpected pain that pulsed through his hand. Through squinted eyes he gazed down at the ink, bleeding red into the parchment, displaying the words \'I will not get caught\' in his stylish script.

Composing himself, Lucius drew his body straight, curled his left hand awkwardly so as not to smudge the ink, and wrote the line once more. He hissed again, his lips curling in discomfort. It wasn\'t until he turned his hand, palm down, that he saw those exact same words in his handwriting imprinted on the back of his hand as though he had cut them there himself. A moment later, the wounds closed as though they had never formed.

The following several lines written with the wicked quill were like an investigation for Lucius. He could not help but marvel at, and appreciate, the ingenious punishment quill; using blood from his body to ink the page before him, duplicating the phrase and carving it into the back of his hand. However, several lines later, his entire hand began to throb, adversely affecting his desired perfect script. Redness formed like a blemish across his usually flawless skin. He was fairly certain this form of reprimand was not authorized by the Hogwarts headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. However, there was little he could object to since being caught using an Unforgivable curse on a human, even in experimentation, was enough to technically place him in Azkaban. Some anguish and suffering was a light sentence compared to a term in the fetid cells of Azkaban with the insidious Dementors for company. Consequently, they were mutually ensnared, although Lucius conceded that Professor Diavolo clearly had the upper hand in this arrangement.

\"Is there a reason you have ceased writing your lines, Mr Malfoy?\" Professor Diavolo\'s voice sounded smoothly and innocently from the dais.

\"No, Professor Diavolo.\" Lucius did not look up. He had no desire to stare into his professor\'s inhumanly ice-cold eyes; he felt unsettled enough already.

Taking quill to parchment, Lucius resumed writing \'I will not get caught\', line after line after line until the parchment gleamed with what felt like was a good portion of his blood. Mirroring the page, his lines were sliced into the back of his hand and then healed, repeating over and over, phrase after phrase.

As the lines filled the page and the pain amplified, a flush began to creep from Lucius\' pale throat downward. The flush continued its sinuous course all the way down between his legs where it settled, spreading its shameless heat -- as though the blood he inked onto the page was inexorably linked to his groin. A few more lines and he couldn\'t help but release a gasp and almost double over, the tightness in his trousers suddenly more debilitating than the searing pain in his hand. Vainly, Lucius tried to steady his breaths as the delicious agony continued to disperse throughout his body, demanding to be slaked. He was so engrossed in the sensation and its cause that he jumped, nearly startled out of his own skin, at the sound of Professor Diavolo\'s voice directly in front of him.

\"I think you are finished with detention, Mr Malfoy. You seem to have gotten the message.\" A sickly smile stretched across the potions professor\'s lips.

Lucius released the quill with a quivering hand. He desperately pulled air into lungs that felt as hot and tight as other notable parts of his body. He felt a drop of perspiration slide down his temple and only then realised that, to his punisher, he must have appeared on the verge of collapse from the quill\'s excruciating effects. He nodded and unsteadily rose to his feet, in the back of his mind grateful that the sudden intrusion of Professor Diavolo had removed the more obvious traces of his physical reaction to the lascivious quill.

If Professor Diavolo said anything else to Lucius, the boy was unaware of it. All he could think to do was make his way to the bathroom, ward the room for privacy, and attempt to unravel the mystery behind the physical sensation roused within his body not from an overactive imagination, but from pain.

Lucius\' breaths evened out as he held his left hand, red and pulsing, beneath a flow of cool water. Squinting his eyes, he thought he could see the words \'I will not get caught\' delicately sliced into his flesh. Pulling his pulsing hand out from beneath the water for a moment to more closely inspect the damage, he decided he was only imagining this. Why, he wondered at some length, did he feel as though he was on the precipice of discovery and that the black disciplinary quill held the answers to his questions? He realised, with some concern, that he would not have ceased writing his lines if Professor Diavolo hadn\'t stopped him first. How long, he wondered, would he have continued? And was it possible to duplicate the flush and strange pleasure that coiled like a serpent in his belly by the same means?

~ * ~

Lucius would have permitted his reaction to the punishment quill lapse without further consideration, but his subconscious would not relent, colouring his days with burning curiosity. Finally, he designed a scheme allowing him to further investigate his body\'s strange response. Not so much a scheme, perhaps, as a simple plan of entering Professor Diavolo\'s office and securing the quill for further study.

Admittedly, Lucius was not as adept at breaking into offices as he was at hexing or even transfiguration, but after considerable effort, he did manage to gain entry to his potions professor\'s office. Prematurely triumphant, Lucius frowned at the locked and warded desk before him, lit only by the lighted tip of his wand. As he was about to spell through the desk\'s protective wards, the door opened and he felt his heart leap into his throat.

\"Mr Malfoy. Your infractions are becoming increasingly habitual of late. I would have thought, particularly after your previous detention, that you would see the wisdom in curbing your... curiosities. Or at least not getting caught indulging yourself.\" Professor Diavolo\'s hands emerged from within the sleeves of hibes bes as he closed the door with a profound click behind him. The wand in his professor\'s hand glowed at the tip, providing an additional, although seemingly ominous, light source. \"Have you anything to say, Mr Malfoy?\" tingting ice-blue eyes pierced through Lucius, who wondered if the professor understood the precise nature of the quill\'s lure where his curiosities were concerned.

The boy shook his head, otherwise frozen, as Professor Diavolo moved towards him and halted only a very short distance from where Lucius stood.

\"What were your intentions here so late at night, Mr Malfoy?\"

In true Slytherin style, Lucius had at least had the forethought to compile a believable excuse should he get caught. Again. With a slightly shaking hand, Lucius withdrew a scroll from his robes and held it out to his potions professor. \"I wasn\'t happy with the potions assignment I handed in earlier today, so I rewrote it tonight and wanted to replace it with this one.\" Lucius kept his voice calm and matter-of-fact. This was a feat in itself, as Lucius\' heart was still beating wildly in his chest.

\"I see.\" Professor Diavolo took the scroll from Lucius but did not open the intended replacement. He merely curled his gloved fingers around the parchment and clutched the assignment to his chest while his other hand\'s fingers tapped out a silent cadence on his arm, contemplating...

\"May I go now, Professor?\" Lucius set his shoulders back into a more dignified posture.

\"No. I don\'t think so, Mr Malfoy. I think one more detention with my quill would do you some good.\" Professor Diavolo sneered and leaned forward, his warm breath ghosting along his student\'s pale face. \"And if that does not teach you, then I\'ll have to find something less... enjoyable... for your next detention.\"

Lucius swallowed reflexively. Hard. His stomach twisted in knots as guilt spread heat throughout his body, settling immediately between his legs like a tease. \"When am I to come for detention, Professor Diavolo?\"

\"Immediately. You have woken me up, and now you can stay awake until dawn if that is the amount of time it takes for you to gain the benefit of my quill.\" Drawing his robes around him, the potions professor slipped behind his desk, whispered a few words and the top centre drawer opened, oiled wood sliding almost soundlessly along its track. He reached into the desk and withdrew the black quill and a thick roll of parchment.

Lucius gazed at the items, feeling his lips and throat dry in anticipation. The mere sight of the black quill was enough to make him sweat -- but not in dread.

Professor Diavolo smiled with an element of sadistic glee, \"You will remember this punishment in the years to come as you finish your time here at Hogwarts, Mr Malfoy. I do sincerely expect this will be the last time you need to be punished.\"

Lucius could only nod and follow his professor into the classroom where one week ago he had sat, bleeding a titillating new desire onto parchment; a desire he didn\'t understand then but yearned to do so now. He took his seat and watched reverently as Professor Diavolo placed the parchment and then the sharp black quill before Lucius.

\"Lines, Mr Malfoy.\" The professor folded his arms across his chest, fingers idly tracing unseen symbols on his thin robes. He struck a very thoughtful pose as though considering very carefully what lines he would issue his student.

Lucius bowed his head, eyes raking covetously over the quill, and his fingers flexing with ravenous need. As though in expectation, he felt undeniable warmth pool within himself, and his cheeks grew hot as though his body knew what was coming.

\"I think the original penalty still applies, Mr Malfoy. I will not get caught.\" Without further instruction, Professor Diavolo turned and swept up the nearby stairs to the dais and his desk. Lucius didn\'t even watch the wizard settle into his chair, nor take note of his intended activity.

Licking his lips to moisten them, Lucius lovingly drew an elegant finger along the black feather. How many others, Lucius speculated, were subjected to the decadent tortures of this quill? How many had discovered what he did -- that pain needn\'t truly hurt at all?

Lucius spread the parchment out before him, crooked his arm and hand, and taking a deep breath, he wrote his first line: \'I will not get caught\'. He stifled a gasp, the sensation painful but pleasantly familiar and very seductive. His groin began to ache at once. He inked another line, his next breath caught in his throat, twinges of decadence twisting deeper into his body, transforming into tantalizing pleasure. He wanted more -- so much more.

Lucius wrote and wrote... feverishly, he forced his hand, nearly cramped in agony from the disciplinary quill as well as the intensity of his own desire. He could feel stifling heat rise from his collar and he dared to loosen the knot of his silk tie. His eyes flickered up to see what Professor Diavolo was doing to occupy his time, and noted that the wizard appeared to be asleep in his chair, head tilted slightly to the side and chin resting on the heel of his hand. He smiled as he opened the top button of his shirt and slid a finger through the gap in the crisp fabric, while using his elbow to hold the parchment in place.

Tugging his lower lip between his teeth, Lucius maintained the rhythm of his writing while teasing his finger along his sweat soaked collarbone, etching his fingernail against skin. His breaths soon came in silent rasps, his hips rocking gently. The exquisite pain, gilded in blood loss, took hold of all his senses and the room faded until only he and the punishment quill existed.

Breathless with overwhelming desire, Lucius finally stilled his hand and turned it over to inspect the crimson blush -- proof of his intense activity. Instead, he discovered blood. His hand had cut open and was bleeding, refusing to heal. He was fascinated. How much had he written? Lucius wondered, unable to see the end of the scroll of parchment that had fallen off the edge of his desk at some point during his debauched undertaking. He was compelled to continue at the behest of an unearthly hunger, an excruciating sensation, incomparably exquisite. He tilted his pelvis down and dared to spread his legs wide, feeling the luscious pull in his groin and a trace of friction from his now incredibly strained trousers. He moaned against a bit lip and dropped his hand from his sweat slick chest to the parchment before him again.

Lucius was poised to write another line, his breaths coming closer together, and then he paused, lured by an impulse. He bent his head down and dipped his tongue to the back of his hand; searing pleasure burning into him like a brand, binding him for life to this new-found passion. With desperate aching need, he pushed the quill along the parchment, words no longer necessary between him and his first lover.

As he wrote, he licked at the swell of newly formed blood, the heavy taste of copper and magic lingering on his tongue like a succulent sweet. He rocked his hips atedatedly, stimulating fabric stroking firmly between his legs. Lucius tried very hard to stifle the moans that eventually broke free, the quill nearly snapping beneath the weight of his hand. He shut his eyes tight, his pitched cry lost against his flesh as he climaxed hard, dampening his trousers with the culmination of his punishment. Absolute bliss washed through him in waves, initiating him into the sinful complement that was pleasure and pain. Anointed with tears, his damp fingers released the sharp black quill, the instrument of Lucius\' pursuit into dark realms of sexual fulfilment.

Lucius laid his head upon his arm, his body quivering with aftershocks, barely blinking as he stared at the crimson-inked parchment where his lines had transformed into erratic scratches driven by decadent desire.

\"I believe that is sufficient, Mr Malfoy.\"

Jarred to his senses, Lucius raised his head, too weak to move further at the moment.

Professor Diavolo rose from his seat and made his way towards Lucius. He lifted and then inspected Lucius\' hand, the unusual texture from the professor\'s snakeskin gloves on Lucius\' flesh sending shivers of forbidden delight throughout the boy. The potions profesgentgently pressed on the wound, eyes firmly fixed to Lucius\' face. A half gasp, half moan escaped Lucius\' dry lips and Professor Diavolo\'s mouth twisted into a smile. \"I think that should satisfy your curiosity, don\'t you, Mr Malfoy?\"

Lucius nodded, sitting upright, unable to pull his hand from Professor Diavolo\'s. He wasn\'t held by physical force, yet he found that he could not withdraw just the same. Licking his lips nervously, he watched his potions professor turn his aristocratic hand over, palm up.

Eyes boring deeply into Lucius, Professor Diavolo traced his thumb over his student\'s highly sensitive pale flesh and said, \"Just remember that next time -- and I truly hope there will be no next time, Mr Malfoy -- you will not enjoy your punishment.\"

~ continued in Part II: Sealed in Poison ~

End Notes:

If anyone enjoys creating HP artwork, and is so moved by this piece, I would very much love to have a piece of fan art to accompany this (in fact, I might become your slave). I know this is an awful thing perhaps to ask, but you never know unless you ask -- and I\'m sorry if you think less of me for asking. I have a very seductive image in my mind: Lucius sitting at his desk with the parchment and disciplinary quill, his shirt half unbuttoned and tie loose or off (but slung around his neck) with Professor Diavolo behind Lucius, his left hand guiding Lucius\' with the quill and his right hand lazily overtop Lucius\' pale chest. If you are interested, and would like a clearer description of Professor Diavolo, let me know. And thanks. Massively.