||[Dec. 14th, 2004|07:22 am]
Who: Lucius, possib. Tom or Walden
Where: Malfoy Manor
When: Friday Afternoon, just after the attack on F&B
Rating: Heavy R for graphic imagery
And there was pain. The Cruciatus had been left on him for awhile and the aftereffects were horrendous. Some went crazy if the curse was left on for too long. Others took a long time to get over the side effects. Most cried, wet themselves, and begged for mercy. Lucius' pride wouldn't allow him the third, he couldn't afford the second, and as for the first...
Well, Lucius was always a bit 'off' to begin with, but now he was starting to see what damage the curse had done to him.
The Cruciatus was designed to bring nothing but pain. Pain lowered defenses considerably and removed mind barriers that were consciously put up. Lucius knew little about Occlumency or Legilimency, but he did know how to hide his thoughts simply by repressing them. Memories of his childhood were kept under mental lock and key, never to be brought up, not even when he was very alone and had little to keep his mind occupied.
The Cruciatus had destroyed the mental shield he held around a few of those past thoughts, those ancient memories that came dredging up into his mind. Images flooded his brain and he made it to the Grand Stairwell before collapsing upon the rug-covered steps, as though a Dementor had suddenly seized him.
His soul, however, was not the thing in danger.
"Mum, I want a cookie!"
Lucius' hand had been gently smacked away by his mother.
"Those aren't for you, Looshie. Those are for a very special guest," his mother explained while smiling down at her four year old son.
'Looshie' was dressed in fine formal wizarding wear for the special dinner party his parents were throwing. He didn't like the clothes at all. They were too itchy. The guests that were coming would be exceedingly boring. There would be no other children and the people only talked of money and accessories that they furnished themselves with. Lucius would much rather stay by the plate of cookies that had been freshly baked and rested out of reach atop one of the tables.
His mother had always been indulgent of her son, but this was one point she would not allow him.
Lucius, in the present, was trying his damnedest not to vomit upon his stairs. That would be so undignified and woe befall him if someone should find him sprawled out in a puddle of his own vomit.
So, so undignified.
Lucius had watched from the stairwell as his mother made the rounds throughout the party. He watched her circle the room, dress swaying around her ankles. She smiled pleasantly but there was a twist to her mouth that made Lucius think her smile was nothing more than a bright smirk. Her eyes fell upon everyone but they stayed on the Minister's newly appointed aide that night as she offered him the plate of cookies.
"They're your favorite," she purred ever so delicately and Lucius felt jealous.
Why should that idiot get what he, Lucius Malfoy, wanted? What made that pompous fool so special? He gripped the wooden bars of the stairwell tightly as the Minister's aide ate his fill.
An hour later, Lucius had lost interest in the party. Some people had already gone home and he had lost track of the Minister's aide. His mind had already strayed away from the cookies and onto his bedtime. Yawning, and hoping his mum would read to him that night, he headed for the nearest loo which was a few doors down from the party.
He opened up the door and found the Minister's aide, sprawled out in a pool of his own white-coloured vomit. The man's face was blotchy and puffed out. So puffed out that Lucius could barely see the man's eyes. The aide's voice was scratchy and muffled and Lucius could only make out the word 'help'.
Had the man waited for the door to be opened in order to say anything? Lucius didn't have time to find out, for the aide's head fell down onto the bathroom floor. The sound of bone hitting the marble floor echoed in the young Malfoy's ears. He couldn't turn away from the sight and only when he looked more closely could he see the faint droplets of blood that was immersed in the white vomit that lay covering the floor and the aide's clothes.
Lucius choked down a sob of terror, for Malfoys could not be afraid, and ran, ran, ran to his mother's beautiful dress and tugged at it with a slight and trembling hand and when his mother turned and looked down upon her son, she knew.
And Lucius knew as he looked into her eyes that she knew what had happened even before he said anything.
So Lucius stayed silent as the aide expired in the Manor's bathroom. Because his mother, while distinguished and beautiful and ever so delicate, was still wicked. Wicked like the stepmother who offered Snow White that apple. But not so wicked that she would allow her son one of the poisoned cookies.
Lucius never found out what had happened that night. His mother had tucked him in, kissed his pale forehead, read him a poem, and left the room. He had gotten up and turned on his closet light for fear of the dark. He did not hear the mess downstairs being cleaned up. He did not hear the Aurors come into the Manor to question what had happened. He did not see money being exchanged or threats whispered.
That night, Lucius learned fear but he had also learned safety.
Even after his mother had been taken away and he had been left with that hellish beast of a father, Lucius found his safety in another. His childhood playmate of so many years.
It was Walden's name Lucius murmured now as he desperately tried to push those damned memories back into their place. Others would soon follow. He needed to lock them back up, but in order to do that, he had to stop the ghastly ringing in his head.