Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1008831.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Draco_Malfoy/Voldemort
  Character:
      Draco_Malfoy, Voldemort, Harry_Potter, Severus_Snape, Lucius_Malfoy
  Additional Tags:
      Dark, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Snuff
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-10-18 Words: 1642
****** The Coming of the End ******
by Maeglin_Yedi
Summary
     Voldemort knows just what he'll do with Draco Malfoy
Notes
     Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Lord Voldemort
     Rating: NC-17
     Warning: non-con, snuff
     Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns it all. I just play with the boys.
     Summary: Voldemort knows just what he'll do with Draco Malfoy
     A/N: Written for HP Remix. Thanks to Gina and Nimori for the quick
     beta.
     Word count: 1648
     First published: August 2004
Voldemort circles the round table and takes his time to admire his prize.
Severus Snape was an ugly man but his severed head is the most beautiful thing
Voldemort has ever seen.
"You did well, child," he says without looking at the kneeling boy.
"Thank you, my Lord," Draco whispers, keeping his keen gaze fixed on the floor.
"It is my pleasure to serve you."
Voldemort's thin lips quirk up in a smile and he runs a single finger down the
cold cheek of Severus Snape. Traitor no more, but a mere ornament for
Voldemort's mantel. A trophy that confirms his impending victory.
Severus' half-opened eyes are black, lifeless pools. Not much different than
when his head was still attached to his body, Voldemort decides. He tucks a
greasy strand of hair behind Severus' ear and tilts his head to admire the
stretch of gray flesh that is revealed.
Severus Snape was a hideous man in life, but he's perfect in death.
"Come, my child," Voldemort says, reaching out a long-fingered hand to Draco.
The boy accepts his invitation – he always does – and Voldemort leads him to
his private chambers to celebrate their success.
                                   *~*~*~*~*
"Very good, Draco," Snape said and lowered his wand.
Draco smiled one of his pristine smiles, which reminded Snape more of Narcissa
than of Lucius. "Thank you, sir. Can we try again?"
"Certainly." Snape straightened himself, raised his wand, and whispered,
"Legilimens."
Draco's mind was a rock wall, impossible to penetrate. The boy had been
practicing, Severus thought. Probably under Lucius' careful supervision.
Although Draco had come with the request to be taught Occlumency, Snape was
sure it had been Lucius' idea. And who was he to decline Lucius' demand?
"I believe this is enough for this evening," Snape said. Draco nodded and then
stepped up to Snape, placing a pale hand on Snape's shoulder.
"I want to thank you, sir," Draco said while Snape blinked at him in surprise.
"I know you went out of your way to make time available for these extra
lessons. I'm grateful for that."
"Of course, Draco," Snape said, his voice cracking just for the briefest of
moments. "That will be all."
Draco released him and strode out of Snape's office. But before he stepped
through the door, he glanced at Snape over his shoulder and smiled. There was a
lot more of Lucius in that curve of his pale lips.
                                   *~*~*~*~*
Lucius Malfoy had always had beautiful hands. The skin pale and soft and the
fingernails manicured to perfection. Voldemort picks up Lucius' right hand, the
opal ring still around Lucius' pinkie glittering in the soft candlelight.
"You did very well, child," he says to the kneeling boy and then caresses
Draco's cheeks with his father's fingertips. "Very well, indeed."
"Thank you, my Lord," Draco says, leaning into the lifeless touch with
eagerness that makes Voldemort's heart swell. Such an obedient boy. Far more
obedient than his dead father.
Voldemort raises Lucius' hand to his own face and he shivers at the touch of
those cold fingertips. It's a touch he's known well, when it was still warm and
trusting. But it's cold now and not welcome any longer. As Voldemort releases
Lucius' hand and it falls to the marble floor with a dull thud, Draco rises to
his feet and caresses Voldemort's face with a palm that feels alive and
hopeful.
"Come, my child," Voldemort says and leads Draco to the bed.
                                   *~*~*~*~*
"Has our Lord decided yet when he will honor you with his Mark?" Lucius asked,
sloshing his cognac around in his tumbler while he leaned back in his chair,
the leather creaking softly under his weight.
"He hasn't mentioned a date yet," Draco said, sitting stiffly on the sofa. "But
I believe it will be soon."
"He speaks highly of you," Lucius said in a tone that revealed he had a hard
time agreeing with his Lord. "I trust you will do anything in your power to
keep it that way."
"Of course, Father," Draco said, looking very much like the child he wasn't any
longer. "It is my pleasure to serve both you and our Lord."
Lucius narrowed his eyes and wondered where they'd gone wrong with the boy. Had
Narcissa spoiled him too much? Had he been too restrictive with punishment
during Draco's upbringing? Whatever it had been, the boy lacked initiative,
something that irked Lucius more and more each day.
"Go to bed, Draco," Lucius said, suddenly wanting Draco out of his sight while
he pondered ways to turn Draco into a true Malfoy after all.
"Yes, Father," Draco said and got up. But he didn't turn to the door. Instead,
he strode towards Lucius and placed a hand on Lucius' shoulder, leaning his
face close. Lucius stiffened when he felt a brush of lips across his cheek.
"Thank you for everything, Father," Draco whispered and then turned and left
the room without saying another word.
Dear Salazar, they had definitely spoiled the boy too much, Lucius decided.
                                   *~*~*~*~*
The first thing that Voldemort wants to do when Draco brings him Harry Potter's
skin, is wear it like cheap cloak. He wants to bury himself in it, feel it
around his naked flesh. To be able to do that means that Voldemort finally
conquered The Boy Who Lived.
"You did very well, boy," Voldemort says, spreading Harry Potter's skin out on
the silk sheets of his bed. He runs his hands across it, the tips of his
fingers lingering over the soft nipples. It feels better than the silk beneath
it, softer and more welcome. Voldemort wants to sleep in it, fuck on it, and
hoist it up a flagpole as the evidence of his undeniable power.
"Thank you, my Lord," Draco says, his gray eyes full of admiration as he gazes
up at Voldemort.
"Come, you may pleasure me once more before I award you with my Mark."
Voldemort reaches out his hand and Draco places his smaller one into it, the
smile on his face one of gratitude.
                                   *~*~*~*~*
Harry didn't see Malfoy closing in until Malfoy ambushed him right outside the
broom shed.
"Malfoy!" Harry snarled. "Get off me!"
Malfoy said nothing but curled his hand in Harry's hair and then slammed his
head against the wooden wall of the broom shed once.
"Oh, so you're fighting like a girl now?" Harry taunted, blinking away the
flashes of light that suddenly invaded his vision. "Why don't we just get our
wands out and do this the proper way."
A most peculiar smile played around Malfoy's lips. One that suggested Malfoy
knew something Harry didn't. And then Malfoy released him, turned on his heels
and disappeared in the darkness of the late evening.
"You're mad!" Harry yelled after him. He straightened his robes and walked back
to the castle, thinking Malfoy must have suffered one too many Cruciatus Curses
at Voldemort's hands for being a deranged, wannabe Death Eater.
                                   *~*~*~*~*
The boy's body is all innocence still. It quivers under the lightest touch and
shudders as Voldemort thrusts inside as far as Draco's tight channel lets him.
It's familiar enough to be comfortable and yet there are so many things left
for Voldemort to explore.
Draco's gaze is trusting and an aroused blush colors his cheeks. Voldemort
hooks his arm around Draco's leg and pushes it up further, opening the boy's
body as wide as he can before he pounds harder. Draco doesn't make a sound but
his nostrils flare as he inhales short breaths through his nose and keeps his
lips pursed into a thin line.
Voldemort can feel the boy's flesh shiver as Draco's climax draws near. It is
the moment Voldemort has been waiting for and while he keeps his gaze fixed on
Draco's, he reaches for his wand under the pillow. Ambition runs deep in any
Malfoy and Voldemort thinks it better that the boy joins his father before he
becomes strong enough to oppose him.
"You were such an obedient boy," Voldemort whispers against the boy's moist
lips. "You've done your job well. And now it must end." Draco's lips part as if
he wants to speak, beg for his life perhaps, but Voldemort's tongue is quicker
and he catches Draco's last breath in a kiss. As Draco's life extinguishes just
like the green light around them, Voldemort climaxes and fills a dead body with
his hot release.
                                   *~*~*~*~*
Draco broke the Imperius Curse the moment he felt Pettigrew's life end and he
was left with a splitting headache. But he allowed himself no time to linger on
petty pains. He had a plane to catch, after all.
Walking around the Muggle hotel room, Draco collected the belongings that had
served him so well. Several strands of hair that might come in handy if Draco
ever found himself in need of a disguise, and his personal copies of 'The Moste
Potente Potions' and 'How To Find Your Wizarding Way In The Muggle World'. The
passwords to Voldemort's dungeons were safely locked away in his mind, but
Draco doubted if he'd ever be in need of anonymous prisoners again. Or that
he'd ever come near Voldemort's dungeons again.
By the time Voldemort discovered that the people Draco had delivered him were
still alive, Draco would be ruling his own tiny kingdom in the Bahamas. Or
Mexico. He hadn't quite decided yet.
Draco snapped the lid of his trunk shut and then shrunk it to fit the pocket of
his Muggle coat. He wondered how much his mother would grieve over his dead
body. He had a good idea how disappointed his father would be, that his son had
managed to get himself killed by the hands of his precious Lord.
Ambition ran deep in the Malfoys, his father always said. Draco agreed with
him. He was quite ambitious in preserving his own life.
~~ fin~~
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!