New Fic: Slaughter (Draco/Rabastan), NC-17

[ravenna_c_tan]

Title: Slaughter
Author: Ravenna C. Tan
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Draco/Rabastan
Warnings: Extremely dubious consent. Implied Rodolphus/Rabastan.
Disclaimer: Non-commercial fanfic.
Compliancy: Deathly Hallows compliant
Summary: After fleeing Hogwarts, Snape brings Draco to the Dark Lord for judgment.
Author's Note: Not for the faint of heart. Thanks to clauclauclaudia for the beta read and ariadneelda for inspirational art.



Slaughter
by Ravenna C. Tan

Snape did not speak to me for two days after our flight from Hogwarts, other than curt commands: eat, be quiet, stay still. We moved from place to place, waiting for word where and when to meet up with the others. He was a bundle of fury, and I feared that if I did not do exactly as he said, that he would unleash that fury on me. I had no idea then, of course, of his true feelings about killing Dumbledore--thinking back on it now, I think that was his way of grieving.

When he began to speak in full sentences on the third day, it was out of pure necessity. "The Dark Lord has a new headquarters at last," he said. "When he commands, you will be brought before him to be judged." So thick was his fury that I thought he hated me then. I thought he relished the thought of dragging me before the Dark Lord. I thought he might even relish being the one to mete out what punishment the Dark Lord commanded.

I had no idea then about many things. And I was wrong, so wrong, about whom to place trust in. I inherited my father's knack for picking the wrong side, I guess.

When a few days later we Apparated to Malfoy Manor, my knees went weak with relief. I thought perhaps we would at least have a respite, that I would at last be able to hide in my room for an hour or two, or cry in my mother's skirts. For so long my only thought had been the tasks the Dark Lord had charged me with, Dumbledore and an attack on Hogwarts. Now they were both done with and I just wanted to crawl into my mother's lap and have her tell me she was proud of what I had done. That I had saved her and Father. Even if I knew, beyond any doubt, that the Dark Lord would only have another test, another task, another horror to face for us in store.

Imagine my surprise when Snape passed through the gate and I did not. He growled and barked at me to stay put, then marched up the steps and into the house as if he belonged there. I was still in shock from that when he returned with Macnair, who performed a complicated series of spells and then beckoned me through.

It wasn't until I stood in the entryway and saw the Death Eaters going back and forth busily that I put it together. Malfoy Manor was the new headquarters. The Dark Lord was here, or he would be soon.

And there would be no respite.

***

I woke to the sound of whispers. I had cried myself to sleep after they had taken my wand, refused to let me see my mother, and sealed the windows and doors to my room. My refuge, now my prison.

"He's awake and pretending to be asleep," said one of the voices.

"Such a pretty lamb," said the other. "There's no mercy in us putting this off, though."

And with that, the lamps by my bed came to life and I found myself looking up at Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange. "Uncle Rodolphus?" I asked, my heart pounding, my mind racing... No mercy in putting what off? "Is... is something wrong?"

Their faces were grave. "I have news," Rodolphus said. "And it's not good. The Dark Lord is very displeased that you failed to kill Dumbledore."

His brother chimed in. "Or maybe he's displeased you survived at all. I do not think you were supposed to, Draco." Rabastan was younger, not as burly as my uncle, his hair not as dark. I did not know him well at all. He looked at me with sympathy.

"The sentence is death," Rodolphus said solemnly. "In the morning."

I could not speak. The breath seemed to go out of me such that I could barely think. Surely they were here to rescue me, though? Surely they would help me escape?

My uncle sat on the bed, one hand stroking my hair. "Poor boy. At least... at least I think it will be quick, Draco," he said. "And we came to tell you because... well, if either of us were in your position..." His voice was soft, almost kind. "I wouldn't want to die a virgin."

The cold shock of knowing I was going to die was replaced by a hot burn of shame. "How do you know I...?"

He clucked his tongue. "Now now. No questions like that. We know perfectly well." And damn him for being right, of course. "And me being your uncle and nothing pretty to look at, we both thought you might prefer Rabi."

And I might prefer Pansy. But it was all going too fast for me to stop and think.

Rabastan sat down next to me. "I'll show you pleasure like none other," he said, reaching out to feather a caress behind my ear.

"I... I..." My mind was plunged into a desperate, dark place. Perhaps it had been there all year. Or perhaps since the moment Snape sent Dumbledore, who had offered me salvation, tumbling off the tower. "My mother and father will live?"

They both nodded solemnly. "Your father, in fact, has been rescued from Azkaban," Rodolphus said. "Just in time to see..." He broke off as if having said it once, he now found my fate unspeakable. And it was exactly the sort of "mercy" that the Dark Lord was prone to showing.

I looked back at Rabastan. "A-all right," I said, the clarity of just how terrible a mistake it had all been burning in my mind. Dumbledore, the old nutter, had always gone on about how love had a power that the Dark Lord could not abide. This wasn't love in that sense, no, but if Rabastan Lestrange could drive back the darkness for an hour or two for me, wasn't that chance worth snatching? "What should I do?"

"Hush now," he said, cupping my head with his hand and pulling me close for a kiss, soft at first and then growing more heated, his tongue claiming my mouth as his.

Yes, his. I would be giving this man my virginity, making myself his, and not Voldemort's, for a few hours.

When we broke apart, I was panting, my heart beating like a rabbit's as it is carried, still alive, in the wolf's jaws back to its pups. I wondered why Rodolphus was still there, now sitting in a chair by the window. Did he intend to watch? Apparently, he did.

I didn't question his presence beyond that. Had there been no Dark Lord in our lives, my coming of age party might have consisted of these men and my father taking me to a high class brothel, where my innocence would have been shed in quite a different fashion, as my father's was, and his father before him. I didn't think they would have watched, but what did I know? Maybe there had to be witnesses for it to satisfy pureblood tradition.

He flicked his wand and quite suddenly I was naked and so was the bed, the duvet and blankets Vanished. His own robes had not moved, though. "Would it be easier for you, little lamb," he said, voice rough with desire, "if I tie you to the bed?"

My eyes must have been as wide as saucers. "T-tie me?"

He gave a soft laugh. "I promised you pleasure like no other. You must trust me. Perhaps I'll bind you in a bit. First, I want you to undress me."

He stood then and held out his arms as if saying well? here I am.

I climbed off the bed on shaky legs. I had grown quite a bit in the past two years, but he was still taller, and although he didn't have the girth of Rodolphus, he still had broad, powerful shoulders. I parted the outer layer of his robe and peeled it off him, then the inner layer, letting them fall to the floor. Under it he wore a belted tunic which came off easily enough, too.

"It's all right to touch me," he said, voice rich with dark amusement. "Run your hands over my skin."

I wondered if he could feel the trembling as I skimmed my hands over his chest, then reached for his trousers.

My throat went dry and I swallowed hard when I revealed his erection. It was the first moment of fear I'd had since they'd said I was going to die in the morning.

"Touch it," he insisted.

I wrapped my fingers around it, hot and heavy and even huger in my hand than it had been to just my eyes. My hand was surely clammy with sweat, but I stroked him four or five times until he made an approving sound.

"Kiss it," he then growled, as if he were barely holding himself back from just pinning me to the bed and splitting me open with it. He had promised me pleasure, but...

I went to my knees and kissed it, up and down the shaft, the doughy scent of him filling my nostrils.

"Good boy," he said, his eyes falling closed and the danger seeming to ebb. I licked him boldly, hoping that pleasing him would encourage him to further hold his urges in check. Licked him and sucked the head into my mouth. That was all I could fit. "Oh, very good boy," he breathed as I did so. "What a treat you are."

His hands clamped over my ears then, and he thrust into my mouth, making me gag. "Yes, a treat," he repeated, as he helped me to my feet and back onto the bed.

Ropes seemed to spring from the bedposts, though I knew he conjured them, anchoring me on my back, pulling my legs wide. I cried out, on the edge of pain as my arms were strung taut, but he petted my hair, hushing me again. "There, there," he said, brushing his fingers over my bare, unblemished forearms, his own Dark Mark seeming almost to glow with shadow. "I didn't realize you were so delicate. Here, let me make you feel better."

He swept his tongue down my body, down my sternum, down my belly, and then sucked my cock into his mouth. I was soon fully erect and straining against the ropes, as he brought me closer and closer to completion.

"He's got more staying power than I'd expect," came Rodolphus' voice from the shadows by the window.

Indeed, thinking back on it now, I wonder if it was just that pleasure was such a stranger to my body that I did not respond as a newly-seventeen year old should. Rabastan had to lift his mouth from my cock to answer. "Indeed."

I raised my head to look at him, to look down at my own prick glistening red in the lamplight, at the face of the man who would be my only lover.

"Don't cry," he said, his expression unreadable, and then bound my eyes with a dark cloth.

I felt his grip around my cock, then, slick with some slippery substance, and then his fingers probing at my arsehole, the entrance that had previously only ever been an exit.

I gasped as the first finger slid in, gasped at the unexpected pleasure it elicited as he continued to stroke my cock. Now it was all sensation, all slick fingers everywhere down there, in me and on me and making me cry out, again on the verge of coming.

And then the fingers stopped, though a slick sound still reached my ears. "If he's lasted this long," Rodolphus said, "may was well let him come on your cock."

Rabastan's answer was a growl of agreement and a moment later his weight was atop me. "Are you ready for me, little lamb? I want to feel you come when I'm in you."

I could feel the hot flesh against my belly. It felt as hard as bone, pressing into me, and I squirmed under him in discomfort.

"Why don't you turn him over?" came Rodolphus' droll voice.

"Later," said Rabastan, and thrust into me.

I was naïve. How could I have been else? I had been half worried that I was going to come on his first thrust and that this would disappoint us both. I needn't have worried. The pain I felt was searing, stealing my breath away such that I could not even cry out, and wilting my own desire instantly.

"That's a good little lamb," he said, and I could feel him stroking my cheeks under the edges of the blindfold. Love, I thought, desperate and mad with terror that pain brought. He loves me. See? He loves me.

Then he began to move, and I did cry out. He wasn't really tearing me apart, it merely felt like it. Or, maybe he was, I thought, but what did it matter? I was a few hours from a flash of green light. If I was lucky.

And then he reached down and began to stroke my cock again, and the pain began to ebb, pleasure sparking hot and driving it back. I strained against the ropes, some instinctive part of me wanting to wrap my limbs around him and hold on. But I was caught there, caught, entirely at his mercy.

So naïve. So stupid. He fucked me with abandon, and the pleasure I was feeling began to ebb as my treacherous body would not come and my arse began to feel scraped raw. Perhaps it wasn't my body after all, though. Perhaps he was actually trying to draw it out as long as possible. I do not know. I began to hope, and then to believe, that when I came it would be over. That when I came, he would come, too. I had not forgotten that what awaited me was death, but I was ready for this experience to be over.

It was around that time that he began teasing me blatantly, burying his cock in me and then stroking, stroking, stroking... and then pulling his hand away while I writhed helplessly, trying to get enough stimulation to come. When I'd finally still, he'd fuck me, slowly, so that I felt every inch of him going deeper and deeper. He'd work up gradually faster, until he was fucking me hard, and then he would bury himself deep, hold himself still, and stroke my cock until I was at the edge again.

"Please, oh God, please, let me come, please, please...." My voice sounded foreign in my ears, but I was past caring, past dignity.

He let out a laugh of surprise. "You are a treat," he repeated. "All right, here we go." Now he began slamming into me with rhythmic regularity, stroking me at the same time. "Come on, little lamb. Don't hold back."

I cried out in frustration. I wasn't holding back! It was just that it was all so much. My confused body didn't know what to do. His finger had felt good, but his cock was too much.

I came with a cry, though, the sensation of hot come spraying my stomach a welcome relief. "Here, taste," he said, swiping his fingers through the puddle, and I opened my mouth.

Rodolphus' chuckle came from close by and I realized with a sudden flash of heat on my cheeks that it was to his brother that Rabastan had offered the taste of my come. Was it some ritual I didn't know about? It seemed possible.

The bonds went slack then and Rabastan gathered me in his arms. Was it over? I could still feel his erection, slick and hot against my hip, and knew it wasn't, and yet... he was cooing over me, stroking my hair, though he did not remove my blindfold. I was trembling all over from the release and it felt good, oh so good, to be praised and told I was beautiful.

"Do a favor for me, lamb?" he asked, pressing a wand into my hand. "Extract the memory of this night. I want to keep it forever when you're gone."

"A-all right." I took the wand. I hesitated a moment. Seeing the memory from my head, he'd no doubt see how much pain I was in, how I'd wanted it to end... but... so be it. It might be all that was left of me tomorrow. I pulled the memory free, and I felt someone's hands bottling it.

And then they both chuckled as if sharing a private joke. I wondered what was funny--if there had been a comic moment as the memory had slipped into the bottle or what.

"On your stomach now, lamb," Rabastan said, voice and hands gentle as he coaxed me to turn over and then the ropes tightened again.

He spread my arsecheeks and examined my hole. He touched it, probing with his fingers around the edges as if determining the extent of the damage.

"Utterly despoiled," came Rodolphus' gravelly voice. "Or, he will be."

"He needs more lubricant," Rabastan answered. "Will my come do for you, brother?"

"It will do nicely," Rodolphus answered.

My head jerked upward as I thought... what? But before I could speak he had impaled me once again.

So naïve. So stupid. So gullible. I even thought the blindfold would hide my tears.

But they knew. And now they knew that I knew that I had been tricked. My final night on Earth was not spent in mercifully given pleasure, but in humiliation and degradation. Rabastan came quickly after that, and then Rodolphus put his cock in me and I nearly sicked up. He was rough, clawing my back and biting me while he fucked me, and I prayed that they did not decide that they should let Greyback in on the fun.

Rabastan was taking me for the second time while Rodolphus made me clean his cock with my tongue--yes, I tasted blood--when they discussed whether it was possible to put my father under Imperius and have him despoil me further.

Thankfully they decided they preferred to keep me for themselves. They did away with the ropes and used Imperius on me instead, and Rabastan lay down on the bed and they made me climb onto him and fuck myself on him, and then Rodolphus held me still, his brother's cock still in me, and forced his own cock into me, too. Once he was inside, they let the spell drop, and I screamed until I was hoarse.

And why shouldn't I? That was what they wanted. A victim. They laughed about how they were going to break Lucius' already damaged spirit by showing him the memory of how his son was defiled. And I had consented to it. I had agreed to take part in my own despoilment.

As, I realized, I had agreed all along, from the moment I had agreed to do as the Dark Lord bid. I had been fucked. Just never so literally before. Everything I had suffered, even Potter's hex that had nearly killed me, I had brought upon myself.

Well, it would soon be over. I would soon be dead. And now, I wished for death. I wished for an end to the pain, the terror, the humiliation. The Dark Lord had taken over our home and was taking over the world. My father's will had been broken, his influence shattered. It was good that I was going to die, for otherwise I would be prey to wolves like the Lestrange brothers every night of my life. Maybe Fenrir would have been next were it not all to end in the morning.

They fucked me until I lost consciousness. When I woke in the grey light of dawn, they were standing sentinel at my bedside, fully robed and all humor gone from their faces.

"Good morning, little lamb," Rabastan said, sounding almost fond of me. I sat upright and felt my insides lurch. I was stiff, but the sheets were not crusted to me with blood. My fingers felt between my legs, but Rodolphus spoke. "You're healed. We had to make sure you could walk, after all."

I am sure the Dark Lord would prefer I crawl, I thought bitterly. But it did not matter to me. I was going to die and I no longer cared.

They watched while I washed and dressed, then a soft knock came at the door.

"He is ready," I heard Rabastan say, and I didn't know if he meant me or Voldemort.

They marched me down the stairs and into the large drawing room. I dared not look around, for surely if I caught sight of my mother I would shame us all and break into tears. I was surprised to find I still cared about that. The room was silent except for the sound of breathing and the crackle of the fire in the grate. From what I could see, though, nearly all the Death Eaters were there, in a large circle, three deep.

At the center was the Dark Lord, with Nagini the snake wrapped across his shoulders like a scarf or stole. In his hand was a wand, and with his other hand he pointed to the floor in front of him.

My role was clear enough. I knelt before him, wondering suddenly if I should have tried to prepare some last words, or at least a last thought. He raised his wand.

Mother, I love you, was all I could come up with.

The next moment was searing agony, sending me writhing to the floor, and I had the fleeting thought that he had decided on Cruciatus first. He would torture me and then feed me to the snake, maybe. And I was so counting on my death coming quickly, on the oblivion that would erase the memory of my rape and all the pain that had culminated with it.

And then the pain dropped to just a burning ebb in my arm. As I looked up, blinking, I realized it was my own wand the Dark Lord held in his hand. He was offering it to me.

I had just been Marked.

The Death Eaters broke into applause as I took the wand and climbed to my feet. There were shouts. The Dark Lord said nothing, just smiled cruelly. I will never know if he knew of the Lestrange brothers' deception, or if that leer was merely him thinking of the tortures he himself would put me through in the weeks to come.

I thought I had gone into that room to die. And I did. The child I was was dead, slaughtered like a lamb.

-fin-







More Author's Notes: I've been getting psyched up for the HP Darkfest, which starts claiming in August so it will be a while, but meanwhile my brain has been running to non-con and dub-con ideas. This fic was partly inspired by this art by ariadneelda, which is non-con Lucius/Harry. I was on a long train trip (7 hours) with no Internet connection, but I'd left my browser open in a tab and just drooled over the picture. What came out of my head, though, was not Lucius/Harry, obviously, but some DH-compliant non-con. Going back all the way to the very first fic I published on LJ, By Any Other Name, Death Eaters despoiling Draco has always been a favorite theme for me.... although in the end there are very few actual fics where I portray it. (Sweet Coin, Thrown to the Wolves, and Draco's Folly are the others I can think of... oh, and I suppose most of the Lucius/Draco, too, like the Malfoy Honor series could count, and The Emperor, certainly... links to all of which on various archive sites are in my master list post on LJ.) This story, of course, can also be read as Draco's parallel journey to Harry's, where Harry also thinks he is going to his death. It's nearly 3am and I am going to sleep. Comments are love!