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Methleigh

Taken to Me

Taken to Me

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sherlock.  not good?
Title: Taken to Me
Author: [info - personal] janus
Characters: Regulus Black, Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, Rabastan Lestrange, Walpurga Black, Sirius Black, misc. others
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1685
Warnings: Mild slash, mild
Prompt: Abraxas Malfoy has some pretty convincing ways of recruiting new Death Eaters. Poor innocent Regulus Black doesn't stand a chance. Slashy goodness.
Challenge: From the hp_cross_fest on livejournal.

They stood at the window, looking down at the grounds and their sons below. One was missing, and the other two were practising Quidditch moves. The elder threw the snitch for the younger and it flashed in the sun as it disappeared, a winking beautiful golden spark. The smaller boy was slight and quick with dark curly hair, his face a concentrated little frown until he saw the flash he sought. His smile broke then, naturally open and excited and he darted after it, determined, enjoying himself, a little proud but still fluid. The elder boy was almost a man, and he stood cool but also smiling. His hair was long, perfect, silver-white and even at sport he moved with languor and dignity. He offered useful points of flying advice, applauding gladly when the younger boy seized the snitch and turned to show him, triumphant.

"Everyone loves Regulus," Walburga said. It was true. Lucius was enjoying himself even though he was almost twice his age.

A motion by the gate and the missing boy appeared, slouching and swatting at the bushes with his new wand, bored, resentful, his sweater a contrasting red to the cool green of Abraxas' garden.

Walburga sighed. "Impossible traitor. I fully expect I will be sooner or later obliged to take him from the family tree. Like my niece, Andromeda. Married a Muggle! A Muggle, I tell you! But I ask a boon, for our long association and for our mutual interests. Save Regulus; take him under your wing, arrange his friendships, his associations. I know you retain a hand in the school. I would send him to Durmstrang, but the students there are so foreign."

Below, Regulus' head nodded, still smiling, as he listened to Lucius' advice and looked for his approval as he changed his hold on the broomstick and adjusted its angle between his legs.

"Please." Walburga never said 'please.'

"I have taken on a protégé already. Lucius brought him to me. A Prince. He is eager, but his family has disowned his mother." Abraxas tapped on the glass as Walburga's face fell and her lips began to pinch. He watched as Lucius, below, gestured towards the house and Regulus looked up, waving, brandishing the snitch happily. Raising his hand in reply and smiling in return, he knew what Regulus would need to win him, to hold him. Warmth, affection. The things his mother did not give. "This boy will ensure Regulus makes the right friends. I hear your other son fell in with a bad lot on the first day."

His companion's face cleared. "Thank you. I will leave him to your tender mercies."




Abraxas met the Blacks at the entrance to Diagon Alley, with Lucius and a recently appropriated boy with lank black hair. He was just in time, for Walburga's older son was just transforming from a sullen foot-dragging boy into a straighter young man, tossing his hair back from his face as he espied a shabby tawny-haired boy and a finely-dressed dark one in spectacles, both smiling.

"Regulus, these are my friends. Let's go with them..."

Abraxas moved forward to shake Regulus' hand and to ruffle his hair fondly. "We've come to see you are properly prepared for your first year at school. Lucius would like to present you with a broom—to further your Quidditch pursuits."

The older boy moved off with a slight sneer at them all, but particularly at the young waiting black-haired boy at Abraxas' side. "This is Severus. He will acquaint you with your House and the school. He will be your first friend at Hogwarts, as Lucius has left. If you want for anything, please, simply let me know."

He received Regulus' warm up-turned smile and his smooth cool hand placed Regulus' small firm one into Severus' bony dry one. He noted the contrasts marking the differences between them. Lucius smiled beside him as Walburga stood behind Regulus. It was almost a tableau, and one that effectively excluded the House traitor.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, sir. Pleased to meet you, Severus." They were the same height, though Regulus was slender where Severus was skinny. Regulus bent politely over his clasped hand, then released it with perfect manners. His look at Severus was curious and friendly, far from his brother's scorn.

"Perhaps I will kidnap him for a couple of hours if I may, Walburga, allow them to become acquainted?"

He bought them sweets and conducted them to the Quidditch store where Lucius and Regulus weighed the merits of various brooms. The Lestrange brothers were at Fortescue's, the younger a particular friend of Severus', and they were introduced. Abraxas bought them all ice-cream.

"Of course you will be in Slytherin," They all reassured him confidently. "It's really the only House, if you want to be a great wizard. Don't worry, if you want to be in Slytherin, if you fit in, you won't be sorted otherwise. That's a nice broom, are you good at Quidditch?"

He watched the boy's gaze noting the shyly private laced fingers of Severus and the younger Lestrange, greeting one another after the holidays. It then moved up to Abraxas' own eyes, asking.

Deliberately mistaking the question, he smiled, nodded and twined Regulus' fingers in his. Receiving answering happiness and the boy drawing closer, he inwardly smiled also. So innocent.

The boy was getting his start, and Severus had his instructions.




In the staff box above the school Quidditch pitch, Abraxas tightened his cloak against the chill. He looked down again at the Slytherin section, his presence as always more an act of favour than interest in the children's games. Severus knew, and looked up to watch him, as he would also have preferred the workroom or library. It was important for Regulus to see them. Abraxas allowed Severus to meet his gaze. Just then he saw Rabastan touch the boy's sleeve and point, more graceful and aware of the crowd. As Severus followed his gesture, Abraxas did as well.

Regulus, having spied the snitch, careened left as a black-haired Gryffindor hurtled at him head on. His broom wavered, but Lucius had chosen well for him, and it brought him around almost in a pirouette, as the other boy abruptly turned upwards into a sharp vertical climb. Regulus reached out his arm and let the snitch fly into his open hand. Everyone was standing. Even Severus was smiling and cheering for once. Slytherin. Abraxas amplified his slow clap, his eyes on Regulus, who searched out his form from his and Lucius' white-lit heads in the stands. A wave, and Abraxas raised his arm in return, gathering his robes to descend to the fields in congratulations.

It was to Abraxas that the boys carried their seeker, Slughorn a distant second, huffing a little at the exertion of hurrying down the stairs. All the children of the Dark Lord, he thought. Rosier, Mulciber, Avery, Nott, the elder Lestrange boy, and coming from the sidelines, Severus and Rabastan. On their shoulders rode Regulus, triumphant, proud, excited, tending to be modestly shy at the attention. He was not just one of them, he was the best: clear-eyed, happy, a champion. He took of his leather helmet, revealing his dark curls, clipped neatly at his neck and around his ears. It was at Abraxas he waved, though, who smiled back, regal—if not their king, their regent.

Ah, between them, he and Severus had been successful.

When they reached him, he moved the boy from their shoulders to his own with an extension of his wand. Regulus was light as cork and stretched his arms out for balance and victory. But as they neared the castle Abraxas felt a hand in his hair, gentle, tentative, and a palm against his cheek, fingertips scarcely touching his jaw-line.

"Everyone loves Regulus," He heard from behind him, one boy explaining to another, or perhaps to him. It was true, but it was he who Regulus loved.




Sixteen. Regulus leant against him. He had not cried, sworn, shouted. Adjustment had appeared almost instantaneous. There was only the caught breath and occasional shudder with a wave of intensified pain, a wave of strengthened contact with the others. He was the youngest and quietest to have ever received the Mark.

Abraxas met the hazel-gold eyes, slightly unfocussed but looking for him. He held them, reassuring. His arm was about the boy, a young man now, the thin body hot against his, occasionally vibrating. "Well done," he said gently. "Well done."

"I can feel them all... you all... us... Him..."

Abraxas knew the urge to tear at the creepy alien presence within the freshly blackened skin, still leaking dark blood, redolent with magic. Through his own, older Mark, he could feel the boy as well now, the sense of his heart added to those of the older members, a tie that bound them together and to the Dark Lord. Regulus was giving no sign, apart from the restless tension. Again he admired him. Others had tried to rip apart the new wounds, scrabbling and swearing ineffectively at their own flesh. "You will soon become accustomed to it—that feeling. You will never be alone now."

Gradually the boy relaxed, and Abraxas lifted him for the last time in his arms, head cradled in the hollow of his shoulder. Sixteen, a man, though the wizarding world would not recognise it for another year. "Come to bed, now. Marked, you will know me, body, heart and mind."

A soft answer. "I've waited." And his faithful house-elf, unusually stroking Regulus' other hand, faded obediently.




The next year it would be Severus, Rabastan, the Rosier boy and the others. He had wanted Regulus to be first of them, after his own son, though he was youngest.

And the next year, Abraxas would be dead, then Regulus.
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