The Varied Insanities of Melfina the Blue

Title:The Mask
Author/Artist:melfinatheblue
Characters:Lucius Malfoy, Arthur Weasley, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter,
Pairing(s):Lucius Malfoy/Arthur Weasley
Rating:NC-17
Warnings: Dark fic, non con, mention of torture and mutilation, mind reading
Word count:2250
Compliant to:DH
Notes:I wanted an Arthur/Lucius fic, and since I couldn't find one I liked, I had to write my own. It went to dark places.
Summary:Lucius Malfoy has something Arthur Weasley needs very badly, money. Arthur goes farther than he thought possible to get it.

After the War, there had been so many good intentions. Talk of rehabilitating the Death Eaters, of rebuilding a more tolerant, just society. Funny how those things never quite work out. One of the Lestrange brothers had eluded capture till just a year ago, and it wasn't until after he'd hit Molly with some very nasty curses (with even nastier side effects) that he was killed. Of course, it was too late for Molly. St. Mungo's could keep her life bearable, just, but bearable; they couldn't repair the damage though. And that sort of treatment cost money. More money than even the now well-to-do Weasley family could spare.

Arthur put his head down on the table. He hadn't really thought about what had happened to Lucius Malfoy, hadn't really cared, to be honest. The man had gone to Azkaban like all the other captured Death Eaters. But now, he needed Malfoy's cash. And thanks to the Wizengamot Reimbursement Ruling, he could get it. The connection between Malfoy and Lestrange, while a bit tenuous, was strong enough to get an injunction. There was only one problem. Malfoy wasn't talking. His assets were all in the Muggle world, safe unless Arthur could find them. So today, he was going to Azkaban, to see what he could get from Malfoy in person. It wasn't like the money was doing anyone any good. Draco might still live in the Manor, but he was a virtual hermit. He didn't have any use for that money, and Molly did. It was only fair.

There had been stories of what happened to the Death Eaters in Azkaban. No one wanted to believe them; after all it was a more tolerant, just society. Arthur knew at least some of them were true. Harry had stepped in to stop them. From what Harry had said, they were treated like animals, if they were lucky. Malfoy wouldn't be. The Ministry was as strapped for cash as the Weasleys were, and they'd try to get the location of every cent they could out of him, however they could. He rather doubted that the Malfoy he remembered even existed anymore. After all, there were worse things than Dementors. But he'd get what he needed, whatever it took. It was for Molly. That was all that mattered.


Azkaban really hadn't changed. It never changed. People tried to change it, but it always reverted back to its old self. Dark and gloomy and cold. The guards led Arthur down, and down, into the bowels of the prison. Down here, a prisoner would never see sunlight again. This was where the incorrigibles were held; those who had committed crimes, however minor, in the name of Voldemort.

"Dunno why you've bothered, Mr. Weasley. Malfoy won't talk."

"He can't talk anymore, Bill." The other guard snickered at that statement.

"Why can't he talk?"

"We had his vocal chords removed. Got tired of listening to him."

"When did this happen? By all accounts, interrogations have continued."

"Well, yeah. The interrogator's been trying for months. Using Legimency, mostly. There's talk of using a pensieve, removing all his memories, if he doesn't start being more cooperative."

Arthur paled. The thought of that, having your mind invaded over and over again, of having memories ripped from you, that was truly horrible. Malfoy was probably insane by now. Mercifully so.

"But wait, how am I supposed to get anything from him?"

"Don't worry. An interrogator was arranged. An Unspeakable or something like that. You've got some pull, Mr. Weasley."

They stopped before a large oaken door. One of the guards waved his hand in front of it, and it opened.

"He's already restrained, and we'll be just outside. The Unspeakable is already in there. Oh, and I'd suggest an bubblehead charm. The smell, is, well, let's leave it at bad."

Arthur quickly cast the charm and walked into the room. There was a torch on the wall, and two chairs. Hermione was sitting in one of them. There was also a rather shapeless bundle against one wall, and it wasn't until it moved that he realized it was Lucius Malfoy, or what was left of him.

"Shit."

"About covers it, Mr. Weasley."

"Is he even aware we're here?"

"Yes. Or at least he moved away when I came in, and the reports indicate his hearing is unaffected."

The bundle in the corner moved again, sitting up, and turning in their direction. His face was covered in some sort of mask thing, without eyeholes. It was rather creepy-looking, and Arthur wondered vaguely how it stayed on without any sort of fastener.

"He's the man in the iron mask. Funny, never thought I'd feel pity for a Death Eater. Now, why are you here, Mr. Weasley? What does he have in his head that you need to know?"

"Hermione, you know what's going on with Molly. We don't have the money to keep her at St. Mungo's, and he does. Locked up somewhere in his head is the location of money, enough to keep Molly comfortable for the rest of her life. That's all I want."

"You may not be able to get it. The Ministry has been quite determined and he's given them nothing. I read through his file. Three years of sensory-deprivation, torture, and mind invasion, and he still holds on to that."

"Maybe if we can make him understand that it won't help Draco, or Narcissa. Draco has more than enough money to live on, and he's a recluse. Narcissa's dead, the money won't help her. If he sees that the money could do some good, tangible good, maybe he'll be willing to let some of it go."

"I doubt it."

"Hermione, whatever else Malfoy was, he's still a human being, not a monster."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"I just don't think he'll help a blood traitor."

Arthur walked over to Malfoy.

"Can you understand me, Malfoy?"

Lucius Malfoy nodded his head.

"I could make things easier for you, you know. And I'm not asking for all of it. Just enough to pay for St. Mungo's for five years or so. That's a drop in the bucket to you, but all the world to me. I understand you wanting to protect Draco's legacy, really I do. And you can do that, and give me what I need. If you don't, well, I hear they're planning to rip the memories from your head. I may hate you, but I don't think you deserve that."

There was no response.

"Hermione?"

She stood up and moved over to him.

"Can you see if he understands?"

Hermione nodded, and cast the spell. Arthur waited patiently.

"He understands, well, sort of. It's jumbled, confused. I'm not sure how much of him is still there."

"Will he give it to us?"

"He's thinking. I don't think he remembers why he has to keep it a secret anymore, only that it's vitally important that he does so."

"Malfoy, I'm not asking you to betray your son. I know you'd never do that. But help me, and you help yourself. I might even be able to talk them into letting you see Draco. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"No, he wouldn't."

"What?"

"He wouldn't. He doesn't want Draco to see this, see what they've done."

"Alright. But you'd like to get mail from him, right? A letter. Maybe pictures now and again."

"He would. Mr. Weasley, I don't think he'll give you anything. It's a bit hard to explain, but I'm not sure he can comprehend what you're offering."

"Malfoy, I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to."

Malfoy shrank. Arthur had never seen someone physically shrink into themselves that much.

"I guess he understood that."

"His mind is full of pain. He understands it, all too well."

"Then tell him to give me what I need, and the pain will stop."

"He thinks, well, this is what he would say if he could...'the pain won't ever stop. You may get what you want, but then someone else will come along, and want more. The pain won't ever stop.'"

"Hermione, please leave the room."

"What? Why? You can't talk to him without me."

"I think I have a way to get what I need. I don't like it one bit, but I'd do anything for Molly. I'd prefer not to have an audience, though."

"Are you sure, Mr. Weasley?"

"Yes, Hermione. Please wait outside."

Hermione knocked on the door, and one of the guards let her out. Arthur stared at the bundle in the corner, getting up his courage. He really didn't like this idea, but it was the only one he had. Malfoy hadn't responded to torture, maybe he'd respond to this. This should break him. He grabbed Malfoy, felt him shrink at the touch, and pulled the ragged robes off him, further tearing them. Malfoy looked frail, like a withered old man. Arthur shoved that thought from his mind, and reminded himself once again, it was all for Molly. He pulled Malfoy's legs apart. Malfoy didn't resist, just tucked his arms in closer. He wondered for a moment what was going through Malfoy's head.

'No, can't think about that. Think about Molly. Think about your beautiful wife. She's here in front of you, ready and eager.'

It didn't take him long to get hard with that image in his mind. He avoided looking at Malfoy, which seemed to help. He pulled apart Malfoy's buttocks, ignoring the fact that Malfoy was now trembling, used a lubrication spell on himself, and eased in. Malfoy stiffened, his hands clenched into fists, but he didn't make a sound. And he was so tight and hot and good, and oh, dear god it had been too long.

He finished quickly, and as soon as Malfoy was released, he curled into a ball. Arthur dropped the ragged robes on top of him. He'd expected a sound, a whimper, something. And then it occurred to him, no vocal chords meant no ability to protest. He felt his gorge rising, and fought to keep from vomiting. It was for Molly, all for Molly. He took a moment to compose himself, and then knocked on the cell door. One of the guards opened it.

"Hermione? You can come back in now."

Hermione walked in, and gave him a strange look.

"I didn't want to do that, Hermione, I really didn't. But I have to do everything I can to help Molly."

She walked over to Malfoy, who curled into a tighter ball at her approach. He was shaking.

"I hope it was worth it, Mr. Weasley, I really hope it was."

"Alright, Malfoy, just tell me where the money is. And then no one will hurt you anymore. Tell me, or I'll do that again."

Hermione pointed her wand and used the spell again.

"He gave me a bank account number. Should have enough in it."

She wrote it down and handed it to him.

"For what it's worth Malfoy, I'm sorry it had to come to that."

Hermione leaned down, started stroking Malfoy's hair.

"If you're feeling guilty, Mr. Weasley, remember you've got a lot of pull nowadays. I doubt Lucius Malfoy will ever be capable of hurting anyone again. Maybe it's time to show a little mercy, hmm?"

"It's up to Ginny. But I'll talk to her."

Hermione nodded.

"Goodbye, Mr. Weasley."

"Goodbye, Hermione."

He knocked on the door, and the guards opened it again.

"I'm ready to go."

"Certainly, sir. Bill, stay here and wait for the Unspeakable, would you?"

The other guard nodded his head. Arthur walked up into the light, away from Azkaban, and to home.


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Epilogue
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Draco stood outside the walls of Azkaban, waiting. He'd been extremely surprised when he received the owl, and even more surprised when he found out who it was from.

"Why'd you do it, Potter?"

"He can't hurt anyone, and I don't think anyone, even a Death Eater, deserves that sort of treatment. He hasn't killed anyone, so it's time to let him go. A merciful discharge."

"Do you expect me to thank you?"

"No, not really. Nor do I expect him to."

"Good. Then I can thank you."

"What? Malfoy, you're nuts."

"And you've just now figured this out? Potter, you're an idiot."

"Look, they're bringing him out."

Harry had known things were bad, had heard from Hermione that Lucius Malfoy was in horrible shape, but there was a big difference between hearing it and seeing it. He was bone-thin, and trembling. His eyes were white, and his hair grey with filth. He looked ancient, older than anyone Harry had ever seen. The rags he was wearing looked like they would fall off in a slight breeze. One of the guards escorted him to the gate, and then shoved him forward. He fell onto the ground without making a sound. Draco ran forward to help him.

"It's alright, father. It's me, Draco. We're going home now."

Lucius Malfoy clutched at his son. Draco helped him to his feet, pressed something into his hand.

"See, it's the portkey. We're going home."

And Lucius Malfoy smiled.