The Secret


((Rated R for graphic and forced sexual intimacy between two minors, non-con between an adult and minor, and abuse.))

((Lucius has a secret.))

((Draco is 17. Summer after his 7th year.))

A black spire. A single window – box-shaped, except for the curved top. The window was paned with a stained glass image of a upside down cross colored black. It let very little light into the small, circular room. A small girl sat in the corner – knees to chest, long arms curved around the shins. She shivered magnificently.

A slow, drawling voice. "Why must you resist me, my darling?" From the opposite corner, a man emerged from the darkness. "You know it only angers me, darling. And you know what I do when I'm angry." A small, amused smile, constant on his face. The girl stared up at him. She felt the strong desire to hiss, but all courage failed her. "You know I love you."

Love. What a pitiful thing, the girl thought. She curled against the dark floor, as she heard the familiar noises in front of her – the small whispers of love and admiration. She knew they were lies, lies to get her to where she was, but it was better to just give in – in the end, he would beat her no matter what. It was best to just accept it. And accept it she did. She considered his proposals of love and his idea that once his wife was dead – once his wife was dead – he would marry her and they would be happy and he would have another child.

Another child, the girl thought. That boy she saw through the window – the broken one with the lucid hair and hollow, steel gray eyes. Who would want another child such as that? One that despised the home and wandered about on his own. The girl considered what the man told her – about love.

She knew nothing of love. Love was a cold stone floor. Love was a beating. Love was blood slithering down her legs. Love was being taken in at six as a maid and never again seeing the light of day. Love was the developing body – sweet and supple, rounded out at sixteen. Love was what Lucius gave her almost every night. Love was forced, contrived, restricting, and frightening.

Who would want such a thing?

"Danae, you are such a lovely girl," Lucius whispered with his back to her. She stood at the narrow doorway. Danae – the name he had given her, to replace the one she could no longer remember. It had possibly been Fidelma or Fiona or another thoroughly Celtic name, but Lucius had despised it – thus, he had changed her name to Danae. And it was Danae to which she responded automatically, as if she was a robot. "You have grown into such a lovely girl."

Lucius turned to look at her. He saw the tired, hollow look in her eyes and smiled to himself. He had been rather rough with her the night before – beat her, took her, and then, beat her again for the soft whimpers of pain that she had uttered when he took her. He enjoyed it so when she was still in pain; he loved how empty and broken she appeared. However, at the same time, he was upset with her for showing such pain. Anyone could look at her and ask if she was in pain, because she looked it – the tightened skin of her face, the shaking knees. He had always told her to tough through it and not think about it, and then, she stood before him, shaking and with her pain completely visible.

"Go run a bath in Draco's room, Danae," Lucius ordered. She was a maid and she did as she was told – but the young boy was not aware of her existence. He just knew that he awoke every morning to a warm bath to wash off however badly his father had beat him for some mistake he had made.

Danae nodded and started towards the door.

"Oh –" Lucius began "- don't you dare wake him."

Danae stood in the middle of the boy's rather large bedroom. He was still asleep in his four-poster bed, with the curtains drawn shut and tied tightly. She stood with a borrowed wand, a stream of hot water streaming out of it into the tub with the clawed feet. It made a small splashing noise, despite Danae's best attempts – but he had never awaked before.

The room was relatively simple for the home. The home – or actually, it was a Manor – was furnished in the finest French furniture. However, in the boy's room, there was the simplest of things – an old desk, an old bed with plain blue curtains, not the silk that adorned the other rooms. His wardrobe door had a crack in it and the lanterns on the wall seemed to all have cracks in them – or not work at all. Danae always wondered why the boy's room was like that, when Lucius could have afforded to get his son nicer things, or to at least, fix the broken things.

There was a noise from the bed. Danae stared at the curtains, wishing that she could see him. She stopped the water running into the tub. What if the boy awoke?

Draco awoke to running water. He had never awoken quite so early; he usually slept off whatever punishment his father had given him the night before, whether it was lashing or the paddle or any array of things that came from the wooden chest at the foot of his father's bed.

He rolled over and stared at the blue curtains. He wondered if he should get up to see where that running water was coming from. It was probably just a house elf, but Draco was not supposed to see them. He groaned to himself and immediately, the water stopped.

This alarmed Draco. Because of this, he reached up and untied the curtain. He pulled the curtain back and sleepily stared into his room.

There was the tub that always sat in the center – every morning, at least, it would disappear by noon – and then, there was a girl. A very tired girl. A maid. But Draco had never been aware of them having a maid; he had always just thought the house was occupied by house elves. His father considered people in general higher up than creatures and would only order them to do such mundane things as running baths.

"Who are you?" Draco asked. The girl stared at him, in complete silence.

She was wearing a dress that seemed to be a bit too old for her; the top was red velvet and had capped sleeves and a low, square neckline that showed off her cleavage. The skirt was tattered and splashed with water and what looked like embers; it looked to be white cotton, but was topped with an equally shredded half-apron. She had a black ribbon tied around her waist, with the tails of it fall on his left hip; she also had a ribbon tied around her wrist, with the tails falling beside her. She had on a series of necklaces, a five-pointed star, a small blue stone, a gray stone heart… She seemed to be a bit too tall for herself, with too-long arms and a waist that was much too skinny.

"I asked you a question," Draco stated. "Please answer it."

"My name is Danae."

"I was asking more who are you – what are you doing here and why…"

"I'm a maid of your father's."


"I suppose."

Draco immediately knew who she was. She was the reason her mother hated her father; she was the reason that his father wanted his mother dead. It was her fault – yes…

"You're his mistress, then?"

"He took me in when I was 6."

"I suppose he waited for you to grow."

"I suppose."

"You suppose a lot."

"Well, yes."

Danae remembered what Lucius had told her.

"Please, young Master, don't tell your father-"

"Why shouldn't I? You've ruined my mother's life."

"He would hurt me so badly, young Master."

Young Master. Draco liked that. He smiled at her. She was rather pretty – with the long, chestnut brown hair and the big, innocently wide green eyes that were so vibrant…

"I must go, young Master. Enjoy your bath."

"No. Don't leave."

Danae had already turned to leave. She panicked.

"I have to, young Master. Your father is waiting for me to return. He would grow suspicious if I was away too long."

"I said, don't leave."

"But –"

"You called me young Master. You are my maid as well then."

Danae's heart skipped a beat. Another Master. Another. She could not take another. She could not accept another. She felt thankful and grateful to Lucius, for what he had done for her. Sure – he had killed her parents, but he could have killed her as well. Instead, he took her in and he gave her love. He had assured her that no one else would find joy in her, because she was homely.

"Young Master, please…"

"Come here."

Danae turned automatically. Her obedience was almost amusing. She walked slowly to where Draco was lying on his stomach, his head turned on the pillow.

"Will you help me up? My father hurt my ankle rather badly last night – I do not want to hurt it more."

Danae took the boy's hand rather shakily and with a bit of effort, Draco was standing upright. Danae blushed and turned her head away from him, as he was clothed only in a pair of green boxer shorts. Draco laughed at her.

"Help me walk."

Slowly, Draco made his way to the tub and once there, steadied himself by putting his hand on the edge. Danae let go his hand and he looked at her, questioningly.

"How old are you, love?"


A year younger than him, then. Draco smiled to himself, but Danae could see it well. She recognized that type of smile – the amused on that his father often had. And yet, Draco seemed so different from his father. The only resemblance seemed to be how they looked, the lucid hair and the blue eyes.

"May I leave, young Master?"

Draco smiled. He found it rather sweet that she called him that.

"Call me Draco, please."

"May I then, Draco?"

Draco stared at her and slowly, his eyes went to the bath water that beckoned him.

"I suppose. But – wake me up whenever you come in to run a bath. I would like to talk to you more."

Danae gave a little bow and went to the door.

"Young Master Draco, please do not tell your father that you saw me. And I promise I will awake you every morning."

"I will not tell my father, Danae."

"Thank you, sir."

"That took you longer than I expected," Lucius said, the moment that Danae walked back into his study. The girl closed the door and her eyes widened pathetically.

"I was afraid to awake him. I had to use a small stream of water," Danae whispered.

"Oh. But you did not awake him?"


Danae's face was as calm as usual. Lucius sensed no difference in her than usual. Except she seemed to have forgotten about her pain.

"Go to your bedroom, Danae. And do not come out. I will see you in the afternoon, to bring you lunch and for a little play. Shall we?"

He smiled at her, but Danae shivered internally. She hated what Lucius referred to as "play." However, she never showed her dislike of this and merely nodded. She opened the door in the corner and made her way up the circular staircase. She heard Lucius laughing to himself in his study.

How much Danae disliked his idea of fun.

The door to the tower creaked open. Lucius stood with a tray of his leftovers – half of a sandwich with a bite taken out of it and an almost empty bottle of water. He smiled at her.

She was in the corner once again, her long arms around her knees that were pressed against her chest. Her dressed had ridden up her thighs, exposing their young, tender flesh. A surge of heat went through Lucius when he saw this – he loved the young girl so dearly.

"Would you like something to eat, Danae, or will you pass once again?"

"I'm not very hungry, sir."

"Master and you never seem to be hungry. You will begin to loose weight, Danae, and I do not like skinny, depleted girls."

Lucius sat the tray down on the floor and walked to her.

"Are you ready for play then?"

"As I always am."

Danae said this with no emotion – no smile or tears.

"You are an eager girl and I appreciate that about you. No – I love that about you."

Lucius smiled once again. He began to undo his robes, letting the thick, black cloth gather at his feet. Underneath them, he was wearing a pair of pinstriped trousers and a plain, white tee shirt. Danae could already see the stiffness that was pressed against the zipper of his trousers.

"Would you like me to begin, Master?"

"As always Danae."

Danae took her arms from around her knees and kneeled on the ground before Lucius. She carefully unzipped the trousers and undid the button on the top; they fell a bit, to around his tights. With her fingers, she carefully exposed Lucius' member. She took a deep breath and brought him into her mouth, repeating the motions that she had been taught at twelve.

She remembered that day, when Lucius came in with a sandwich for her; as she ate, Lucius demonstrated how to do certain things. He made her lie down flat on her back and he gently probed between her legs. Danae remembered crying and then, there was nothingness and layers of velvet. Lucius had apologized for scaring her and kissed her on the lips for the first time. He had wiped away her tears and smiled at her. "You're a good girl, Danae," he had whispered. Then, he had made her kneel before him for the first time and do it for the first time…

Danae spit out Lucius seed into the glass he offered her. He smiled down at her, looking as if he just wanted to sleep.

"I feel much better now, Danae. Are you sure you do not wish for me to pleasure you?"

"I am sure."

"You always are. I should stop asking. Are you shy, love? Shy about how much I love you? Shy about how much you love what I can give you?"

Danae stared at up at him from where she sat. She smiled up at him. "I suppose I am, sir."

Lucius nodded and turned to exit.



"Would you prefer to have a younger man?"

"No, sir. I love you."

"I know."

He was gone.

Danae slowly opened Draco's bedroom door. She closed it, locking it with a small click. She walked to the tub and picked up the wand that was beside it. She looked at the curtains and heard the small snores from the other side. Draco had held up his side of the promise – it was only right that Danae do the same.

She walked slowly to the curtains and poked her hand through them. She tapped the shoulder that she felt. The snores stopped and the curtains were hurriedly untied and thrown open. Draco lay smiling at her, on his side.

"You did wake me up," he said sleepily. "I was worried that you would not."

Danae shrugged. She walked back to the tub and began to fill it with hot water.

"What does my father do with you – besides make you run baths for me?" Draco asked. He was incredibly curious about the role that Danae had played in his father's life for ten years. "I mean, what other duties do you have?"

Danae considered the answer – and then, she considered telling him the truth. She considered telling him about his father's insatiable sexual appetite, about how his father was always after her for some play or favor. She considered telling him about the numerous times she had been pinned to the cold floor of the tower and how she had begged to not be touched then. She considered it, but she knew that Lucius would kill her if she ever told. Plus, Draco seemed like the type of person to ask for justice for such things.

"I clean his study and I make him happy … by complimenting him." She almost slipped. Almost, but no.

"Do you make him happy sexually?" Draco rolled onto his stomach, casually; he was, however, still watching Danae with the closest of attention. She was dressed differently, which meant that Lucius cared about her enough to let her have different clothing. She was dressed in another tattered dress; the skirt was black and the top was a gray corset. She had a thin shawl wrapped around her shoulders and gloves that went to her elbows. She was still wearing the five-point star around her neck and a black, velvet choker.

"Do not ask me such things, young Master."

"Do you call him Master too?"

"What do you know about your father, Draco?"

"I know more than you think," Draco said, laughing harshly. "I know how he treats women in general. Like toys. Like objects. He must do the same to you. It's only natural for him."

"He's nicer than that."

"Is he, Danae?"

"My name isn't Danae."

"What is it then?"

She was silent. "I don't remember."

Draco realized what she was. She was a someone who had been ripped of her identity and left alone, to deal with the awkwardness of growing up; she had been torn from the people she loved, who had loved her, and left with a man who knew nothing of children.

"How many times has he raped you, Danae?"

"He does not rape me, young Master."

"Stop calling me young master and admit what he does to you!" Draco was growing angry with her. She obviously had been told that she was nothing and that upset him more than it should have.

"He does what he wishes with me because he could have killed me ten years ago, but he did not. He kept me and he raised me. He loved me when no one else would have. I'm just an urchin."

Draco stared at her.

"Why would no one else love you?"

"Look at me, Draco."

Draco considered her and then thought of the other girls. Puberty had hit her hard and she not expected it, obviously. She looked pinched – as if, she had grown too fast in a short time. Her breasts looked a bit too large for her small frame and her hips were still narrowly thin as if she was a child. Her face was smooth and narrow, thin as if she had not eaten in several days.

"You look beautiful."

Danae shook her head. She stopped the stream of water and stared at the steam that lifted off the surface. "Your bath is ready, Draco. I hope you have –"

"Don't leave, Danae. Come here."

"Please, Draco."

"Danae. Do you know what love is?"

She stared at him. Then, she stepped toward him. She shook her head at him, slowly and softly.

Draco reached out one hand to her. His fingers graced her wrist and she flinched away. She stared down at him.

"Why do you want to know, Draco?"

She felt herself panicking. She never had been close to someone her own age – at least, not in ten years. Not since she had changed and grown and become who she was. She found herself confused by him, by his forward behavior.

"I'd like you to experience reality, Danae."

Danae shook her head. "Your father would kill us both."

"I don't care."

"I can't, Draco. Please don't ask me to choose. I would rather spend the rest of my life locked in a tower than for you to –"

"Danae." It was another voice. Not Draco's. It came from behind her. She turned her head. She realized that Draco was gripping her hand.

There he was – in his black robes of silk and his long, blonde hair tied behind his head with a black ribbon. Danae felt the panic well up in her chest. His face was contorted in anger; his teeth were clenched and bared, as if he was some sort of animal.


She let go of Draco's hand and quickly walked up to him. "Please, sir, don't punish Draco. It was my fault. I awoke him and attempted to seduce him. Please, sir, please." Lucius stared down coldly at the young girl – for the first time in her life, she had disobeyed him.

Draco lay in his bed, unable to speak. He was shocked that she would lie to his father, just to protect him. He stared at his father.

The cold, steely eyes slowly went from the girl before him to Draco.

"You wench," Lucius whispered. Draco assumed it was to Danae, but he was not sure. It could have been to anyone. "You deceit-filled wench! You will pay for this." Lucius hand swooped from beside him, smashing Danae in the face. Her head turned to the side, the tears already starting.

"Both of you will pay for this."

"No, sir, please." Danae fell to her knees. Her arms wrapped around her master's knees desperately; she pushed the side of her face into his groin, something he would have enjoyed otherwise. "Please, sir, please don't punish Draco. I have never spoken to him before this. I will never leave the tower again. Please –"

Lucius' hand pushed her backwards. She fell onto her hands, propping herself up.

"Danae, go to Draco."

Danae stood up and walked to beside the bed. She waited for Lucius to pull out his wand and whisper some sort of curse that would torture them. She waited, and yet, nothing came.

"Roll over, Draco. Danae, get onto the bed." Draco stared at Danae. Danae turned obediently and climbed onto the bed. Draco looked to his father and the steely eyes glared at him. Draco rolled over underneath the duvet and began to worry about what would happen.

Lucius walked towards them and sat in the chair beside Draco's bed.

"Danae, do you know what I am going to ask of you next?"

"I suppose, sir."

"Undress yourself, Danae. You too, Draco."

Danae unwrapped her shawl and pulled over her gloves. She let them slide off of the smooth duvet onto the floor. She carefully untied the corset top of her dress and let it pull away from her. She lifted herself off the bed to pull the dress of completely. All she had left on was a pair of black, lacy panties. She looked at Draco, who laid silent, his hand over his eyes and his cheeks shining.

"Draco. Do as you are told."

"I will not do this to her, Father."

"Do what to her, Draco?"

"Do as you do!" Draco spat. His father slapped him awkwardly.

"Do as you are told or I will kill her."

Draco panicked and threw the covers off of himself. He was wearing a pair of black boxer shorts. He looked to his father, who was smiling knowingly.

"Straddle him then, Danae."

Danae began to shiver, as she found herself obediently placing herself on Draco's thighs. She looked into Draco's eyes and the boy could see the tears welling up.

"I'm sorry, Danae," he whispered.

"Don't be sorry, Draco. She's about to receive what she wanted. She will no longer let me touch her and pleasure her. She always cries when I do. I knew she was interested in you Draco."

Danae stared into the boy's eyes.

"Kiss her, Draco."

Draco's hand went up and gripped the back of Danae's neck. He brought her head down and placed his lips on hers. He felt the tears slipping onto his cheeks from her face. She was shaking and it only worsened when Draco slipped his tongue into her mouth. He was eager, as he had been thinking of doing it since he had seen her before. However, she was frightened by Lucius' very presence, it seemed.

"I think she would prefer to be on the bottom, Draco."

Draco knew that his father was laughing. He reluctantly flipped over, putting Danae beneath him. She was still crying and shaking rather violently.

"Please don't cry, Danae, please."

She shook her head.

"She always cries when she is sexually excited, Draco," Lucius explained. "It's rather attractive, is it not?" Draco admitted that the broken, sad look did suit her, but he felt terrible that he was having to do such things to her.

Draco kissed her once again and without being told to, began massaging her inner thigh. She was whimpering into his mouth, almost begging. Draco heard his father's heavy breathing from beside him and he shivered. The idea of his father being aroused by this was … Draco did not want to think of it.

Danae was panicking internally. Her body wanted what Draco was doing, but in her mind, she was frightened. She felt the heat between her legs and knew what it was asking of her. She felt almost guilty for her want, but at the same time…

"Draco, take off her panties."

Lucius' voice was strained and heavy, raspy almost. Draco's eyes dared to look at his father and he panicked as he saw that Lucius' hand was buried deep in his own robes. His hand was gently fondling his own self. Draco's eyes went back to being closed and with one hand, he pulled Danae's panties down to her knees. He steadied himself above her once again and then, continued to pull them down with his knee.

"Touch her, Draco."

Draco's fingers gently went to her center. She was warm and damp. Draco pulled his head up from Danae's, so that he could see her as she experienced gentle touches. He felt himself grow aroused as she let out one, small, and pretty moan. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly open, her pink lips puffy and attractive.

However, it would have much more wonderful if Lucius had not been panting loudly beside them, his hand moving violently against himself and the back of the chair hitting the wall softly. Draco's eyes were caught between his father and Danae. His fingers continued to work on his center, gently stroking that special organ that only women possessed; she quivered beautifully, arching her narrow hips up to him.

"Penetrate her, Draco," Lucius panted. Draco went to kiss her again, but he loved the noises that were escaping her mouth too much. He pulled his boxers down and ran his fingers over himself. He braced himself and then placed his member at Danae's entrance. She let out a whimper.

"Please, no, Draco."

"I'm sorry, Danae."

Draco shoved his throbbing member into her. She let out a small cry; however, the cry turned into an erotic moan immediately. The moan stretched out into a solid noise, echoing through the room. Draco thrusted in and out of her, as she moaned and pushed against him.

Draco felt himself nearing his climax, as he heard his father let out a small groan and then, laughter. Empty laughter. The laughter filled his head and then, Draco felt himself falling, falling endlessly.

A black spire. A single window – box-shaped, except for the curved top. The window was paned with a stained glass image of a upside down cross colored black. It let very little light into the small, circular room. A small girl sat in the corner – knees to chest, long arms curved around the shins. She shivered magnificently.

"You are my secret, Danae," a voice laughed. "And you will remain that way."

With a small whisper and a flash of green light in the darkness, a body fell to the floor. An empty laugh filled the room. The girl buried her face into her knees and felt herself crying, crying.

Once his wife was dead. Once his wife was dead. More children. New children. The secret lives on.