Vedros
patreon
Moving Forward: Chapter 35
🕑 Added 2025-02-11 16:30:01 +0000 UTCHarry didn’t waste a second. The moment their lips met, the world around them faded away. Narcissa’s fingers slid into his unruly hair, tangling in the thick strands as she tugged him impossibly closer. He groaned against her lips, the vibration traveling straight to her chest, making her shudder. Her smirk returned as she nipped at his bottom lip, eliciting another sound from him—half growl, half sigh.
His hands traced down her back, fingertips pressing into the fabric of her robes before he pushed them through the slit to grip her waist directly. Her skin was warm under his touch, smooth and inviting. She gasped when his hands tightened, pulling her flush against him, making her acutely aware of how perfectly they fit together. He felt solid, heat radiating off him as if he were burning from the inside out.
Narcissa tilted her head slightly, deepening the kiss, her lips moving hungrily against his. Harry met her with equal fervor, his hands exploring the curve of her waist, sliding up her sides, memorizing every contour. Her nails scraped against his scalp, sending delicious shivers down his spine, making him press her harder against his body, feeling her supple curves pushed up against his chest.
Her breath hitched when his lips left hers, trailing down the elegant column of her throat. Harry didn’t hesitate—he nipped, licked, and kissed his way down, savoring the way she trembled in his arms. Narcissa tilted her head back, offering more of her throat, her fingers tightening in his hair as he latched onto a sensitive spot just below her jaw. The soft, breathy sound she made in response sent a thrill through him, and he smirked against her skin.
“Didn’t think you’d be this sensitive,” he murmured, his breath hot against her pulse.
Her fingers tugged at his hair, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes dark with lust and wanton desire. “You have no idea.”
Harry chuckled lowly, pressing another kiss to the corner of her lips before reclaiming them fully. She met him with equal intensity, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and nails digging slightly into his back through his clothes. The pressure sent warmth coiling in his stomach, making his grip on her waist tighten instinctively.
They moved as if they had been doing this forever, their bodies molding together effortlessly. Narcissa pressed herself even closer, if it was possible, her fingers slipping beneath his shirt, tracing the muscles beneath with deliberate slowness. His breath hitched at the feeling of her cool fingertips against his overheated skin, and he pushed his tongue fervently inside her mouth, making her gasp into the kiss.
Her robes had loosened around her shoulders, slipping slightly as his hands roamed freely. He trailed his fingers along the exposed skin, his touch feather-light, making her shiver. In response, she bit his lip again, a teasing smirk playing at her swollen lips when he groaned.
“You’re playing dirty,” he murmured against her mouth, his voice rough.
She arched a delicate brow, fingers tracing down his chest now, her touch maddeningly slow. “Oh? And what are you going to do about it?”
His answer was immediate. He captured her lips in a searing kiss, swallowing any further teasing words she might have had. One hand cradled the back of her neck, angling her exactly how he wanted, while the other continued its exploration, fingers dancing over the small of her back, pressing her closer. She melted into him, her own hands moving restlessly over his shoulders, his back, as if trying to pull him even deeper into the moment.
The heat between them built steadily, their kisses growing even more fervent. Harry barely registered the passage of time—his focus only on the feeling of her body against his, the way her lips moved against his own, and the intoxicating scent of her.
At some point, her breaths came in sharp, uneven pants, her fingers still tangled in his hair. His own breathing was just as ragged, his forehead resting against hers as they caught their breaths. Yet, neither of them pulled away completely, their hands still lazily roaming, their lips occasionally brushing in between breathless sighs.
It felt as if hours had passed as Harry and Narcissa made out like long-lost lovers who couldn’t get enough of each other before he recalled what she had asked of him. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her, grinning when he saw how swollen her lips were.
The blonde blinked and looked at him questioningly, making him chuckle.
“If we get carried away, your little idea would be toast,” he said, rubbing his thumb on her plump lips.
Narcissa’s tongue darted out and she licked his thumb, keeping her eyes locked with his.
“You really don’t think it’s weird?” She asked curiously, making him shrug.
“Not any more weird than everything else going on around here, to be honest,” Harry replied with a chuckle. “I mean, I never expected I’d be involved with so many women who would gang up and create a coven—"
“And be involved with each other as well,” Narcissa interjected.
“And that as well,” Harry chuckled. “So this little act of yours… I can play along. Not now though. I don’t think it’s—”
“You don’t need to explain, Harry. I understand, with everything going around,” she smiled, stroking his chest softly as she looked up at him. “But soon. I’ve waited long enough.”
Smiling, Harry nodded as he leaned in for another kiss. Narcissa returned it happily, feeling freer than she had in a long while. When they finally pulled back, Harry stood up and took her hand in his as he led her out of the room.
“I’ll let you know when we can do it,” he told her, seeing her nod out of the corner of his eye with barely hidden excitement. His lips curled. They walked together down the stairs where Narcissa parted from him with a meaningful gaze toward the entrance to the basement, watching him head over in that direction.
“Harry,” she called out as he grasped the handle, making him turn to her. Her eyes hardened, all traces of humor and happiness vanishing and being replaced by nothing but scorn. “Make it as hard for him as you can.”
His lips curled, a sneer appearing on his face as he nodded. “We’ve got a long time with him. Trust me, it’d be nothing less than he deserves.”
The blonde gave him a nod and stood there, watching him vanish behind the door. Her eyes shifted over to her daughter who had emerged from the other corridor and was making her way over to her, and the moment their eyes met, she knew.
“Is he…” Cassie trailed off, her eyes trained on the door that led to the dungeons.
Narcissa nodded with pursed lips. “I want you to come with me,” she said, to her daughter’s surprise.
“Are you sure?” Cassie asked with a small frown.
“Tell me you don’t want to.”
Cassie did not reply. Her eyes drifted toward the door once again as a resolute expression crossed her face. Her mother saw this and nodded.
“Let’s go,” Narcissa said, and taking her hand, she led her daughter onward.
XXXXX
No matter how many times he stepped foot in the dungeons of Grimmauld Place, he always found the air thick with the stench of damp stone with dried blood stuck to it—evidence of torture many people must have endured in the place for centuries. There was a foul scent mixed with the usual though, and it was easy to recognize that it was coming from the man chained inside one of the cells.
His wand held aloft, the Lumos piercing the air, Harry stepped in front of the cell holding him and banished the orb of light, making it float above him. His cold eyes regarded the broken and mutilated form of Lucius Malfoy, his pride all lost and his state as pitiful as it could be. The man barely resembled a human being, and if he had not seen his chest moving in tandem with his short breaths, Harry would’ve assumed it was a carcass and nothing else.
Greyback's handiwork was evident in every inch of ravaged flesh, and for the second time, Harry scanned him keenly. Scars crisscrossed what remained of Lucius Malfoy's face, obscuring his features beyond recognition, and he had a hard time believing this was truly the prideful bastard who thought too highly of himself. His limbs were a patchwork of gashes and healing wounds matted with dried blood. His bones looked shattered and healed wrongly, and his nose was caved in, his lips torn apart as well. His robes were little more than rags, hanging off his gaunt frame like dead skin.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen, Harry thought scornfully. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. He knew what Lucius was, what he represented, and the position he held, or perhaps used to hold. The man had willingly served Voldemort and poisoned the country with his prejudice, gold, and power, influencing ministerial policies over the past two decades and shaping up laws in favor of his ilk. This was a man of cunning, although he had used it to manipulate a buffoon, so he couldn’t give him too much credit.
Harry flicked his wand, and immediately, a stream of ice-cold water shot out of the tip, smacking Malfoy right in the face. The man lurched immediately, gasping for breath, his eyes (or whatever remained thereof) wide in panic. His breathing was ragged, the chain rattling as he moved.
“You know, Malfoy,” Harry mused, stepping inside and letting the door shut behind him with a heavy clang, “if someone told me a month ago that I'd see you like this, I'd have laughed in their face.”
Malfoy lifted his head slowly and sluggishly, the chains rattling once again as he shifted. His breath wheezed through broken teeth. He tried to make a sound, but nothing more than a raspy whimper came out, making Harry sneer.
He crouched in front of him, meeting his ruined gaze. "Looks like you've had a rough time with your dear pals. Bet you never thought Greyback would turn on one of his own, or maybe it was Voldemort who ordered him to? Won’t surprise me, to be honest, and you really should've seen that coming."
Lucius flinched. It had been hell. His life had been destroyed by whom he called his master. Throwing him to a rabid mutt like Greyback, who had broken him in every manner imaginable until there was no remnant of his old, prideful self had remained. That was not to mention the monthly transformation that had begun to tear him apart from the inside, making his weak body fight a war it could not win.
Lucius recognized it for what it was—a slow, agonizing death.
“How does it feel?" Harry asked conversationally. "Being the thing you used to despise? Knowing you’ll never be welcome among your own kind again? Must sting, huh?" He gave a mocking tilt of his head. "No more Malfoy name carrying weight, no more influence, no more looking down your nose at the rest of us. You're filth now. Just like the ones you called mudbloods."
The flare of anger that coursed through him at those words made him feel even more worthless, and all he could do was whimper out a broken “Potter…” that was barely even coherent. However, Harry understood it, even if barely.
"That's right. It's been a while, hasn't it? Considering your current state, I suppose 'long time no see' would be a gross understatement." Harry allowed a flicker of cold amusement to color his tone. "You're looking… rough."
Harry conjured a chair and sat down opposite the chained Malfoy, his emerald eyes unwavering in its glare. He let the silence stretch before speaking again. “Now, I could be kind and tell you I’m here to help. But we both know that would be a lie.”
Lucius groaned, straining against the chains, and Harry let out a small sigh. He roughly grabbed Lucius’ jaw and squeezed, forcing his mouth open.
“Ah. I see. He tore your tongue out, huh? You must be itching to speak, right? Here you go,” he said, and with a casual flick of his wand, a real silver tongue materialized inside Lucius’ mouth, not unlike the silver hand Voldemort had bestowed Pettigrew with. He saw Lucius’ eyes widen as the sensation returned to his mouth.
“Now then,” Harry continued, leaning back comfortably as he regarded the haggard-looking man. “I have some questions for you, Lucius. And trust me, you're going to answer them. I have... persuasive methods."
Lucius let out a rasping chuckle that turned into a pained cough. “Do your worst, boy. You don’t have the stomach for real torture. Not like… them.”
Harry sighed, shaking his head. “You misunderstand, Malfoy. I’m not going to use the Cruciatus. Too simple. Too crude. Pain is easy to withstand if you expect it. No, I think I’ll try something different.”
He pulled a small vial from his pocket and held it up. “You know what this is?”
Lucius swallowed. "Veritaserum?"
Harry snorted. "Please. If I wanted easy answers, I'd just shove that down your throat. But the problem with Veritaserum is that it doesn’t give you what you don’t already know. And you? You’ve fallen from grace. I doubt Voldemort tells you much these days. So, I’ll have to be more... creative."
Lucius’s one good eye narrowed, but Harry could see the fear there. The uncertainty. He was expecting something brutal. Harry would give him something worse.
“This is called the Drink of Despair,” Harry said chillingly. “A nifty little creation of your dear master himself. The name should tell you enough, I hope.”
A broken gasp was the only response, and Harry chuckled.
“You haven’t been near a Dementor, have you, Lucius?” He asked casually, watching how the man flinched. “Oh, you have? Well, that would make the explanation much easier. You see, this little number here does the same thing, but without a dementor. I hope you’re willing to cooperate? Or I can give you a little taste.”
Lucius swallowed hard, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. "I… I don't know anything! He doesn't tell me anything anymore. I'm… I'm nothing to him now. A failure."
“Oh, I’ll be the one to decide that,” Harry replied, and with a snarl, he pushed Lucius’ mouth open and poured the entire vial inside his mouth.
The man remained unmoving for a moment as the potion took effect before he lurched, a breathless gasp escaping him. His mouth opened wide in a silent scream, his head thrown back. Harry was oddly reminded of a horror movie he had watched when he was a kid. Lucius looked exactly like the man who had been possessed and was being exorcised, only more broken and bloodied.
In no time, the tears came, and the man started shivering. He began whispering broken words to himself, rocking against his bindings. He kept reaching out for something, and Harry knew exactly what he wanted.
He flicked his wand, and a goblet filled with water appeared in his hand. He didn't offer it to Malfoy. Instead, he levitated it just out of reach, letting the man’s parched throat work in vain. His eyes had immediately fallen on the goblet, and he was desperately reaching out, but Harry kept it out of reach all the while.
"Let's start with the basics, Lucius,” Harry began. “What are Voldemort's immediate plans? He's back, he’s got a loyal core, but he needs more. How is he recruiting? Where is he operating from?"
“My house!” Lucius rasped out loud, frantically reaching out for the goblet that remained out of his grasp. His mind was continuously being assaulted by the most horrific memories he had, which were all from the past month. He was being forced to relive the atrocities Greyback had committed, all the while being forced to answer. “P-Please! I-I d-don’t know any-anything!”
"Oh, I find that hard to believe. Even a broken tool can still be used, Lucius. And you were a valuable tool, weren't you? A master manipulator, with connections in the Ministry and access to vast resources. Surely, he’s got some use for you, even if it's just as bait." Harry leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Tell me about the inner circle. Who are left after he took the marks from those dipshits, yourself included? Who does he trust implicitly? Who is advising him? Don't insult my intelligence by claiming ignorance."
Lucius flinched but answered nonetheless. He stated the obvious names that Harry already knew. Narcissa had been a very competent source of information, even though she had never been a member of the little band of thugs. However, it was one name that surprised him.
“What? Say again?”
“Severus…” Lucius whispered. “Severus Snape is still in his good graces, I believe. He… he trusts Snape.”
Harry paused, considering this. Snape. He knew the bastard was a double agent. He was still disgusted with the memory he had uncovered of the man asking Voldemort to spare his mother when he went to kill his family. Dumbledore trusted Snape, but Harry didn’t. How deeply embedded was the man though, really? That was the question. Was he truly loyal to Voldemort, or was he playing both sides?
‘Not that it matters in the slightest. He will die for the sole reason that he told Voldemort about the prophecy,’ Harry thought to himself, glaring at Malfoy. Snape was living on borrowed time.
"Snape… what tasks has Voldemort assigned to Snape since his return?"
"I… I don't know. I s-swear! H-He keeps me in the d-dark. He’s not even s-spoken to m-me s-since… since…”
“Since I fucked you over, yeah, I get it,” Harry commented dryly. “I bet he must only speak to you when he wishes to remind you of your shortcomings, you muppet."
A sob wracked Lucius's body as he desperately begged for the water. Harry sneered and levitated it further, watching how the man shuddered once again as his mind was assaulted by another vile memory.
"Alright, Lucius. Let’s move on. Voldemort wants something, doesn't he? Something more than just power and control. Something specific. What is it?"
The fact that Dumbledore had been putting Order members to guard different departments in the Ministry must have a connection with Voldemort. There could not be another reason. After all, for all his faults, Harry did not see Dumbledore plotting to take over the Ministry.
I have to reconsider this as well. Can’t afford to keep a blind spot when it comes to that scheming old fart,’ Harry thought to himself, resolving to discuss this with his girls soon.
Lucius shook his head weakly. "I… I don't understand."
Harry smiled cruelly, a humorless expression on his face. "Oh, but I think you do. Think hard, Lucius. Think about what Voldemort could want in the Ministry. He’s got Death Eaters in there? Amelia and I have been working hard to flush those vermin out, but we know it’s not so easy.”
The mention of the Ministry seemed to light up something as Lucius jerked, his eyes widening in fear. "The prophecy! He seeks the full prophecy. He only heard part of it, years ago. He believes it holds the key to… to defeating you, Potter."
Realization dawned on Harry in an instant. Indeed. Voldemort had heard only part of the prophecy, so it made sense that he would want to know what it said in full. If the man put so much faith in the art of Divination that he had acted on it so drastically, it stood to reason that he would let the information dictate what his next course of action would be.
"The Department of Mysteries… in the Ministry,” Lucius continued, crying. “He told us it’s of the utmost importance. Along with breaking everyone out of Azkaban and infiltrating all the departments in the Ministry.”
“So that’s the plan,” Harry muttered, feeling a surge of adrenaline. This was crucial information. Voldemort was planning an infiltration and, failing that, a possible raid on the Ministry. "Who is he sending? Who does he trust enough to carry out such a sensitive mission?"
"I… I don't know the details. H-He’d asked me to before… before… But I heard him mention… Rookwood. And Nott. They're both… discreet. And rabid."
Rookwood. Indeed. The man was a former spook, so it made sense. And he had memories of Nott as well. A quiet man but cruel nonetheless. Harry committed the names to memory.
“P-Potter… please… please…” Lucius rasped, desperately reaching out for the goblet. Harry stared at him in disdain for a long moment before he sighed. He watched as the man reached out and grabbed the goblet, devouring it like a madman, and he allowed him some respite, even though a part of him wanted to make the man grovel a bit more. However, the potion was still working as it should, and the man was not going to catch a break any time soon.
"Well, thanks for your cooperation,” Harry remarked. “Now, let's talk about something a little more personal. What did Voldemort promise you in return for your loyalty? And don’t give that pureblood superiority bullshit. We all know it means little to pricks like you. Was it simply the privilege of groveling at his feet?"
Lucius's face contorted in a mixture of fear and anger. "He… he promised me a place at his side. A position of power in the new world order. He promised… he promised…"
Harry laughed mockingly. "Power? Look at you, Lucius. Ripped apart by a werewolf, abandoned by your master, rotting in a cell. How's that for power?"
Lucius whimpered as Harry pulled the goblet from his grasp and vanished it. He forced his eyes shut as the potion kicked in once again.
Harry regarded the man with disdainful eyes and waved his wand again. This time, a small cage appeared, containing a large, venomous-looking spider. He levitated the cage close to Lucius's face.
"You know, Lucius, I’ve been hearing a lot about venoms lately. Snakes and scorpions are the obvious ones, but manticores and chimera as well, not to mention basilisks. However,” he shook the cage, agitating the spider. “Did you know that the venom of Acromantula spiders, even little ones, can cause excruciating pain, hallucinations, and even death? I read it recently, and I found it quite fascinating."
Lucius screamed in fear, his body thrashing against the chains. "No! Please, Potter! I've told you everything I know!"
“Oh shut up. I'm not going to kill you. At least not yet,” Harry rolled his eyes as he leaned closer. "Here’s what’s going to happen, Lucius. I'm going to leave this little friend here. It's going to crawl all over you. And every time you lie, or every time you withhold information, I'm going to let it bite you. Sound fun?"
He watched with cold satisfaction as Lucius's eyes filled with terror. He knew he was pushing the boundaries, descending into a darkness that was not healthy. But he couldn't afford to be soft. Not anymore. This was war.
"Now," Harry continued, his voice steady. "Let's talk about your biggest secret, shall we? Tell me about your son, Lucius. Draco, that’s his name, right? What role does Voldemort have planned for him? He is still attending Durmstrang, isn't he?"
Even when he was filled with fear, Lucius’ eyes bugged out in sheer shock. He stared at Harry aghast.
“H-How—”
“Oh, I know more than you think, Lucius,” Harry grinned ferally. “You think too less of Narcissa. She’s much more capable and smarter than you think. Now, spill, or I can let my little friend here make you speak up.”
Lucius screamed as Harry opened the cage and dropped the baby acromantula on his shoulder, casting a Confundus charm on it. The man sobbed, tears streaming down his mutilated face.
"Leave him out of this! He's just a boy!"
Harry's eyes narrowed. "Don't play innocent, Lucius. You expect me to believe that Voldemort would make you sire a child without having some sort of plan for him? I refuse to believe your son has been raised to be anything but a scumbag like you. A bigot, a bully, and a Death Eater in training. Tell me what Voldemort wants from him."
Lucius hesitated, and Harry nodded toward the little spider that reared back to attack.
"No! Wait!" Lucius gasped, making Harry stop the creature. "He… he wants to use him. As the future. The future of Death Eaters. To take part in expansion once he conquers Europe. Draco… he will inherit everything—”
“Like hell he will,” Harry snarled, shooting to his feet. He glared at Malfoy with utter loathing. “Your bastard will die before I let him touch what belongs to Cassie. You’ve treated her like crap all her life, you were going to sell her off, and all the while, you were planning to give what’s rightfully hers to a bastard you sired on some poor helpless woman. I have half a mind to kill you off right here."
The asshole had the audacity to grin at him, and Harry almost lost it.
“So that’s it, huh?” Lucius rasped. “That’s why you stole Cassandra away. You are a worthless scum, Potter. You’ll never touch a knut that belongs to my family.”
“I won’t,” Harry agreed, sneering. “But I’ll ensure it all gets to who it belongs. It’s Cassie’s right, all of it.”
“That girl deserves nothing!” Lucius hissed. “The Malfoy name, and the Malfoy riches, all belong to my Draco!”
Harry glared at the man as he slowly raised his wand, only for a hand to stop him. Glancing to the side, he saw Narcissa, who had taken his hand and lowered it.
“Ah, the bitch herself,” Lucius rasped.
The blonde glared at the man with utter loathing before she flicked her wand, firing a sharp cutting curse straight at the man. The dungeons were filled with wild, agonizing cries as the curse severed his left arm entirely, blood spurting out of the appendage. Narcissa easily cauterized the wound, paying no heed to the man’s cries as she levitated the arm and turned it around, gazing at the very faint skull tattoo emblazoned on the inside.
“Don’t be late,” she said softly, and with a final disdainful glance at the whimpering man, she turned around and walked away.
Cassie, who had been invisibly standing right outside the cell alongside her mother while Harry interrogated Lucius, looked at him with pursed lips. Harry gave her a reassuring nod and watched as she smiled tightly before she followed her mother.
His face contorted in a sneer, Harry took his seat once again and merely stared at the sobbing man. He spent the next hour meticulously probing, pushing, and threatening him. He extracted every scrap of information he could from the broken shell of Lucius Malfoy. He learned about potential Death Eater recruits, hidden safe houses, and even a few tantalizing hints about Voldemort's modus operandi in this war. Lucius’s knowledge was patchy, but he had been close enough to Voldemort once that what he did know was worthwhile.
Harry finally stood up, his body aching with exhaustion and a bone-deep weariness. He knew he hadn't gotten everything. Lucius was too broken and too peripheral to Voldemort’s current plans.
He looked down at the pathetic figure chained to the wall, and nothing but a look of sheer disgust crossed his face. However, it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
"You've been… helpful, Lucius," Harry said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Though, you were more resourceful than I thought you would be."
He turned to leave.
"Potter… please," Lucius croaked, his voice barely a whisper. "Kill me. Please. I can't… I can't live like this."
Harry paused at the doorway. "You really think I’ll let you off so easily? You’ve seen nothing yet, Lucius. You’ve got a lot of time, a lot to see, and a lot to realize.”
He stepped out of the cell, leaving Lucius Malfoy alone in the darkness. Death was mercy for someone like him. He deserved to see himself lose everything, and he knew that was what Narcissa and Cassie both wanted. He would ensure he saw to it. Lucius would see himself lose everything, and only then would he grant him the cold embrace of death.
To be continued…
Comments
Erinnyes
100%
Ryan
Another story, hopefully another Draco I get to see die horribly
