Fic: Through the Looking-Glass
Title: Through the Looking-Glass
Author: Donna Immaculata
Pairing: Lucius and, technically, his hand. Mentions of Lucius/Bellatrix and Lucius/Narcissa
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters mentioned in this fic
Warnings: voyeurism, naked house-elf, abuse of an inanimate object (i.e. Lucius' cane)
Summary: Lucius Malfoy visits his fiancee and looks in the mirror
A/N: Writen as answer to the challenge "Lucius/Kreacher, creepy voyeurism" for the second wave of the HP Squick Fuh-Q Fest. Many thanks to ellensmithee who has been an invaluable help as beta.
It was when his hand slowly slid up the hard length, when his fingers curled around the glistening shaft, when his thumb stroke lovingly over the smooth head that Lucius knew he was in love. It was funny, he mused, how he had walked the earth for twenty-odd years, fancying himself perfection in motion and yet lacking such a vital part of himself. But now he had found the missing piece; he had met the companion of his life and he would never part with him again.
Or her?
Lucius looked down at his hand moving up and down the silver staff in slow caresses, exploring the filigree serpent on top. The reptile's jewel eyes looked almost alive in the candle light and, with its sharp pointy teeth and its greedily open mouth, it reminded him vividly of his fiancée. His fiancée-to-be, actually, but an obstacle such as the lacking consent of a guardian was immaterial. The Blacks might be Ancient and Noble, but the Malfoys were Clever and Rich.
Lucius Malfoy, pure-blood and loving it, was to marry a pure-blood witch, and Narcissa Malfoy was the most eligible young lady on the market. Unlike her sister Andromeda, she was conscious of her proud heritage and, unlike her sister Bellatrix, she wasn't insane.
Dressed immaculately in his dark aquamarine robe and midnight black cloak, Lucius Apparated to the doorstep of 12 Grimmauld Place, where Narcissa had been living as her uncle's ward since her own parents' lamentable death seven years previously. He straightened up, smoothed back his Veela-blond hair and ignored the Blacks' door knocker, which tried to attract his attention by flicking its tongue at him. Instead, he raised Cane and tapped him delicately against the aged wood.
The dinner was superb, Narcissa looked as stunning and bored as ever, and when the twinkling of her jewels and the insipidity of her conversation had got to be too much, Lucius excused himself with a polite bow and the explanation that he intended to keep Mr Black company in the library. Twirling Cane between his long, elegant fingers he stepped out of the drawing room and into the hall, ignoring the lecherous looks thrown at him by his future sister-in-law. If he didn't know better, he'd consider Rodolphus a saint for putting up with her.
Trapped between the Scylla of Narcissa's small talk and the Charybdis of Mr Black's glares, Lucius chose a third option. He opened the small window in a narrow alcove on the second floor and lit up one of the spicy cigarettes with which Severus provided him. After a few deep drags, he found himself pleasantly light-headed and relaxed and made a mental note to always, always have a smoke before a visit to the Blacks’ in future. Unfortunately, the cigarette also made him very thirsty, and he wasn't ready yet to go back to the drawing room where he had - stupidly - left his cup. He knew where a bathroom was since that memorable encounter with Bellatrix, when she had dragged him into her chambers and with her sharp teeth and her affinity for blood had cured him efficiently from his naïve belief that she might have the necessary prerequisites to make a Mrs Malfoy.
The door stood ajar, and the faint flickering light of a lonely candle cast irregular, dancing shadows on the walls and mirror. When he first stepped into the bathroom, Lucius thus did not perceive that his reflection was, in fact, not the only one he saw. Then he noticed a smallish shadow moving in the left-hand corner and whirled around instinctively, his wand at the ready. There was nothing there, however, and so he reckoned that the figure must be present in the mirror only. In the next moment, he realised that the figure was actually beyond the mirror. Lucius had stumbled across a secret window that granted him a look into the neighbouring room, which happened to be Narcissa's.
The figure wasn't Narcissa, though. It was a house-elf doing elfish chores, and Lucius would not have graced it with a second look if not for the fact that he had just discovered the reason for Bellatrix' knowing smiles and saucy innuendoes that made Narcissa pale and him squirm. He was fairly sure that his fiancée didn't know about the mirror and he sincerely hoped that Mrs Black did not. As he stared at the smooth silvery surface in transfixed disbelief, he realised that the house-elf's movement had changed its rhythm and that the small creature was most definitely not mopping the floor.
Crouched beside the bed on its hands and knees, the elf's arse was raised high in the air. To his horror, Lucius watched the towel slung around its hips slide up and down with each rocking motion, revealing that house-elves had obviously not learned about the advantages of underwear. From his position, Lucius got a full view at the elf's bared rear, and watched, in speechless fascination, the skinny buttocks spread and close and spread and close and...
... And in the next moment, Lucius saw what the elf was rocking against. All of a sudden, his mouth went dry and his cock went hard and his self-control just plain went. With frantic hands, he pushed the folds of his robe apart and freed his heavy erection from the confines of his pants, while his eyes remained fixed on the sight before him. He knew the silky pillow that was now serving as humping target for a - filthy, foul, worthless - house-elf only too well; it was the same one on which his fiancée had lost her virginity to him; he remembered, fondly, the expression in her grey eyes as he had shoved the pillow under her arse, positioned himself between her wide-spread thighs, and pushed inside the exquisitely tight heat for the first time.
He also remembered how she had said, afterwards, that she would have the pillow laundered by an elf, to have the scent of their combined sex extricated from it. It might have well been that very elf that had been assigned the task, but it didn't look to Lucius as though the creature had ever fulfilled it. On the contrary, the elf seemed to be inhaling the scent lingering in the material, pushing its snout into the soft silk as it worked its skinny legs and bony hips tirelessly. It hitched up one leg higher, thus fully exposing the area between his buttocks to Lucius' view, who caught himself wondering just how much force would be needed to bury himself in the tiny opening. The thought made his cock twitch in his hand, and even as he sped up stroking, Lucius knew that that would not be enough. This time, he needed more than just his hand (skilful as it was) to reach completion.
The flame of the candle behind him flickered. As its light got caught in Cane's left eye for the fraction of a second, the green jewel seemed to give him an obscene wink which settled the matter. Lucius grabbed Cane around the neck and pointed his cock at Cane's mouth. While his eyes followed each desperate jerk of the house-elf's skinny body, his hand directed Cane's cool head along his heated flesh. He tore his gaze away from the house-elf long enough to watch a thin thread of semen glisten between Cane's head and his cock's, and he looked up again just in time to see the elf roll to its feet. It wrapped its long, twig-like fingers around its thin prick and began rubbing it in a frantic rhythm faster than Lucius' eyes could follow. His own erection now rested against Cane's open mouth, where pointy teeth prickled the swollen flesh, and the moment the house-elf threw back its head and spurted greyish semen all over Narcissa's silky pillow, Lucius' balls contracted violently, forcing his orgasm out of him in long, jerky shots.
It took him a few minutes to recover, but when his breathing evened out and his knees stopped trembling, he found that the mirror was showing his reflection alone, and that he looked flushed and sweaty and well shagged-out. The elf had disappeared, the bed was made, and the pillow lay neatly on top of the frilly duvet.
Fuming in righteous fury ('How dare it befoul a noble witch's chambers?!') Lucius reached for a cloth to wipe Cane's head from his pure-blood semen that was dripping sluggishly to the floor. He would teach the elf a lesson. He would teach it the true meaning of Cruciatus.
"Ah, Mr Malfoy," Mrs Black said when he re-entered the drawing room, "I'm afraid your tea's got cold. I will have Kreacher prepare a fresh potful. Please do be seated," she added graciously, allowing Lucius to step around the table and take his place at Narcissa's side, who looked demurely down at her elegant hands folded in her lap.
The tray materialised itself from thin air right by the table, instantly followed by a faint 'pop' that announced the arrival of a house-elf. Under normal circumstances, Lucius wouldn't have paid it any attention, but the sight of a long-fingered hand reaching across the table for his cup caught his eye and in the very next moment he was choking down the attack of most horrible nausea: the snout-like nose, the watery eyes and, worst of all, the skeletal fingers were painfully familiar.
The elf finished, got smacked by Mrs Black and disappeared, while Lucius found himself addressed by the formidable lady with the words, "Are you unwell, Mr Malfoy? You look as though you've just seen a Muggle."
"I think, Madam, that it was the sight of the house-elf which caused Mr Malfoy's discomposure," Bellatrix said, a worrying smile on her face. "I am sure in his father's house, the house-elves' offer a much better performance than what he witnessed tonight.
"Don't be silly, girl!" Mrs Black said sharply. "I know old Kreacher is not the most capable of elves, but he makes the best custard cream in London!"
But Lucius didn't hear anything of her response. He was watching Bellatrix, whose fingers toyed lovingly with a small glittering item in her lap. Her dark eyes were fixed on his when she lifted it evenly and directed a beam of light at his face.
Too late Lucius realised that Bellatrix had a great love for mirrors.
The End
Author: Donna Immaculata
Pairing: Lucius and, technically, his hand. Mentions of Lucius/Bellatrix and Lucius/Narcissa
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters mentioned in this fic
Warnings: voyeurism, naked house-elf, abuse of an inanimate object (i.e. Lucius' cane)
Summary: Lucius Malfoy visits his fiancee and looks in the mirror
A/N: Writen as answer to the challenge "Lucius/Kreacher, creepy voyeurism" for the second wave of the HP Squick Fuh-Q Fest. Many thanks to ellensmithee who has been an invaluable help as beta.
It was when his hand slowly slid up the hard length, when his fingers curled around the glistening shaft, when his thumb stroke lovingly over the smooth head that Lucius knew he was in love. It was funny, he mused, how he had walked the earth for twenty-odd years, fancying himself perfection in motion and yet lacking such a vital part of himself. But now he had found the missing piece; he had met the companion of his life and he would never part with him again.
Or her?
Lucius looked down at his hand moving up and down the silver staff in slow caresses, exploring the filigree serpent on top. The reptile's jewel eyes looked almost alive in the candle light and, with its sharp pointy teeth and its greedily open mouth, it reminded him vividly of his fiancée. His fiancée-to-be, actually, but an obstacle such as the lacking consent of a guardian was immaterial. The Blacks might be Ancient and Noble, but the Malfoys were Clever and Rich.
Lucius Malfoy, pure-blood and loving it, was to marry a pure-blood witch, and Narcissa Malfoy was the most eligible young lady on the market. Unlike her sister Andromeda, she was conscious of her proud heritage and, unlike her sister Bellatrix, she wasn't insane.
Dressed immaculately in his dark aquamarine robe and midnight black cloak, Lucius Apparated to the doorstep of 12 Grimmauld Place, where Narcissa had been living as her uncle's ward since her own parents' lamentable death seven years previously. He straightened up, smoothed back his Veela-blond hair and ignored the Blacks' door knocker, which tried to attract his attention by flicking its tongue at him. Instead, he raised Cane and tapped him delicately against the aged wood.
The dinner was superb, Narcissa looked as stunning and bored as ever, and when the twinkling of her jewels and the insipidity of her conversation had got to be too much, Lucius excused himself with a polite bow and the explanation that he intended to keep Mr Black company in the library. Twirling Cane between his long, elegant fingers he stepped out of the drawing room and into the hall, ignoring the lecherous looks thrown at him by his future sister-in-law. If he didn't know better, he'd consider Rodolphus a saint for putting up with her.
Trapped between the Scylla of Narcissa's small talk and the Charybdis of Mr Black's glares, Lucius chose a third option. He opened the small window in a narrow alcove on the second floor and lit up one of the spicy cigarettes with which Severus provided him. After a few deep drags, he found himself pleasantly light-headed and relaxed and made a mental note to always, always have a smoke before a visit to the Blacks’ in future. Unfortunately, the cigarette also made him very thirsty, and he wasn't ready yet to go back to the drawing room where he had - stupidly - left his cup. He knew where a bathroom was since that memorable encounter with Bellatrix, when she had dragged him into her chambers and with her sharp teeth and her affinity for blood had cured him efficiently from his naïve belief that she might have the necessary prerequisites to make a Mrs Malfoy.
The door stood ajar, and the faint flickering light of a lonely candle cast irregular, dancing shadows on the walls and mirror. When he first stepped into the bathroom, Lucius thus did not perceive that his reflection was, in fact, not the only one he saw. Then he noticed a smallish shadow moving in the left-hand corner and whirled around instinctively, his wand at the ready. There was nothing there, however, and so he reckoned that the figure must be present in the mirror only. In the next moment, he realised that the figure was actually beyond the mirror. Lucius had stumbled across a secret window that granted him a look into the neighbouring room, which happened to be Narcissa's.
The figure wasn't Narcissa, though. It was a house-elf doing elfish chores, and Lucius would not have graced it with a second look if not for the fact that he had just discovered the reason for Bellatrix' knowing smiles and saucy innuendoes that made Narcissa pale and him squirm. He was fairly sure that his fiancée didn't know about the mirror and he sincerely hoped that Mrs Black did not. As he stared at the smooth silvery surface in transfixed disbelief, he realised that the house-elf's movement had changed its rhythm and that the small creature was most definitely not mopping the floor.
Crouched beside the bed on its hands and knees, the elf's arse was raised high in the air. To his horror, Lucius watched the towel slung around its hips slide up and down with each rocking motion, revealing that house-elves had obviously not learned about the advantages of underwear. From his position, Lucius got a full view at the elf's bared rear, and watched, in speechless fascination, the skinny buttocks spread and close and spread and close and...
... And in the next moment, Lucius saw what the elf was rocking against. All of a sudden, his mouth went dry and his cock went hard and his self-control just plain went. With frantic hands, he pushed the folds of his robe apart and freed his heavy erection from the confines of his pants, while his eyes remained fixed on the sight before him. He knew the silky pillow that was now serving as humping target for a - filthy, foul, worthless - house-elf only too well; it was the same one on which his fiancée had lost her virginity to him; he remembered, fondly, the expression in her grey eyes as he had shoved the pillow under her arse, positioned himself between her wide-spread thighs, and pushed inside the exquisitely tight heat for the first time.
He also remembered how she had said, afterwards, that she would have the pillow laundered by an elf, to have the scent of their combined sex extricated from it. It might have well been that very elf that had been assigned the task, but it didn't look to Lucius as though the creature had ever fulfilled it. On the contrary, the elf seemed to be inhaling the scent lingering in the material, pushing its snout into the soft silk as it worked its skinny legs and bony hips tirelessly. It hitched up one leg higher, thus fully exposing the area between his buttocks to Lucius' view, who caught himself wondering just how much force would be needed to bury himself in the tiny opening. The thought made his cock twitch in his hand, and even as he sped up stroking, Lucius knew that that would not be enough. This time, he needed more than just his hand (skilful as it was) to reach completion.
The flame of the candle behind him flickered. As its light got caught in Cane's left eye for the fraction of a second, the green jewel seemed to give him an obscene wink which settled the matter. Lucius grabbed Cane around the neck and pointed his cock at Cane's mouth. While his eyes followed each desperate jerk of the house-elf's skinny body, his hand directed Cane's cool head along his heated flesh. He tore his gaze away from the house-elf long enough to watch a thin thread of semen glisten between Cane's head and his cock's, and he looked up again just in time to see the elf roll to its feet. It wrapped its long, twig-like fingers around its thin prick and began rubbing it in a frantic rhythm faster than Lucius' eyes could follow. His own erection now rested against Cane's open mouth, where pointy teeth prickled the swollen flesh, and the moment the house-elf threw back its head and spurted greyish semen all over Narcissa's silky pillow, Lucius' balls contracted violently, forcing his orgasm out of him in long, jerky shots.
It took him a few minutes to recover, but when his breathing evened out and his knees stopped trembling, he found that the mirror was showing his reflection alone, and that he looked flushed and sweaty and well shagged-out. The elf had disappeared, the bed was made, and the pillow lay neatly on top of the frilly duvet.
Fuming in righteous fury ('How dare it befoul a noble witch's chambers?!') Lucius reached for a cloth to wipe Cane's head from his pure-blood semen that was dripping sluggishly to the floor. He would teach the elf a lesson. He would teach it the true meaning of Cruciatus.
"Ah, Mr Malfoy," Mrs Black said when he re-entered the drawing room, "I'm afraid your tea's got cold. I will have Kreacher prepare a fresh potful. Please do be seated," she added graciously, allowing Lucius to step around the table and take his place at Narcissa's side, who looked demurely down at her elegant hands folded in her lap.
The tray materialised itself from thin air right by the table, instantly followed by a faint 'pop' that announced the arrival of a house-elf. Under normal circumstances, Lucius wouldn't have paid it any attention, but the sight of a long-fingered hand reaching across the table for his cup caught his eye and in the very next moment he was choking down the attack of most horrible nausea: the snout-like nose, the watery eyes and, worst of all, the skeletal fingers were painfully familiar.
The elf finished, got smacked by Mrs Black and disappeared, while Lucius found himself addressed by the formidable lady with the words, "Are you unwell, Mr Malfoy? You look as though you've just seen a Muggle."
"I think, Madam, that it was the sight of the house-elf which caused Mr Malfoy's discomposure," Bellatrix said, a worrying smile on her face. "I am sure in his father's house, the house-elves' offer a much better performance than what he witnessed tonight.
"Don't be silly, girl!" Mrs Black said sharply. "I know old Kreacher is not the most capable of elves, but he makes the best custard cream in London!"
But Lucius didn't hear anything of her response. He was watching Bellatrix, whose fingers toyed lovingly with a small glittering item in her lap. Her dark eyes were fixed on his when she lifted it evenly and directed a beam of light at his face.
Too late Lucius realised that Bellatrix had a great love for mirrors.
The End