Keeper of the Superfluous Es! (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
themostepotente) wrote2005-08-23 06:07 pm
themostepotente) wrote2005-08-23 06:07 pm
Il Violino Rosso (Lucius/Severus -- R)
Title: Il Violino Rosso (The Red Violin)
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Lucius/Severus -- implied Severus/?
Warnings: A bit o' bloodplay, violence and gore, dark!ficcy
Disclaimer: Oh, so not mine -- this market's been cornered.
Summary: Lucius knows just how to punish Severus for his indiscretions.
Author notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
underlucius. Crossposted here to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hp_literotica.
Many thanks go tosinick for betaing.
Il Violino Rosso
Lucius Malfoy has only ever placed his trust in one man. Only ever confessed his secrets to one man. Only ever respected one man. And only ever loved one man. Such degrees of fondness were never easy for Lucius to allow, for he was not in the slightest a generous man.
Severus Snape, however, was able to chisel past the icy bleakness of his heart. This man was neither angel nor demon, but he commanded the forces of dark and light with his silver tongue and his mesmeric play. It was said his bow strokes could inspire the most downtrodden men into battle, sway the most unbending ears, and of course, lead an unwilling man to love.
But what a fool Lucius has been, blinded by treachery and duplicitous nature. Severus is his mirror reflection, and still he could not see past the lies and the deceit. It provokes in him another, stronger love: a love of vengeance. No man will have the better of Lucius without greater retribution. No man. Not even the man with whom he has shared a part of his life, a piece of his soul, and the whole of his heart.
Over time, Lucius unearths Severus's greatest weaknesses: failure and the inability to create with his hands. He knows with Severus there is no resisting what has been given him to see, touch, and feel.
Lucius scours the conservatories of Venice for the ideal violin, one that has been passed from virtuoso to virtuoso since its creation. It is perfect in a way that most would consider imperfect: a damaged scroll, a time-weathered body, and poorly tightened tuning pegs from which the strings have snapped. Despite its abysmal condition, Lucius declines the services of the luthier. Only he will be able to restore the Stradivarius to playing condition.
Lucius begins the arduous process by restaining the belly. Once the colour of burnished carmine, he surmises that the only way to regain the once lustrous sheen is through blood. He will take his ceremonial athame in hand and cut scissures into the pallid flesh of his Narcissa's arm. Brilliant, shining blood that breathes life into deadened, russet heartwood. Lucius doesn't like hurting her, but if he's been made to suffer than everyone else around him should be made to suffer as well.
Next, he restrings the violin with sinew from a recent kill. The sinew is entwined with sisal and catgut, strong and taut, because Lucius knows that Severus plays like he makes love; he is rough but loving. The strings are wound around pincer-shaped tuning pegs, and the traditional spiralled scroll is now the segmented arc of a scorpion's tail. Lucius finds that this is a fitting representation of his lover, both potent and poisonous.
He saves the bow for last; the back is ornately carved with the bodies of both incubus and succubus on opposite ends conjoined at the waist. Horsehair is replaced with locks of his own hair, golden silk that will catch the light with Severus's mad-passionate sautillé strokes. Lucius will lubricate the bow hairs with the tears of his newborn son. Tears he has never been able to cry for himself, for he has long since stoppered his hurt and his anger with emotional detachment and liaisons of his own.
Il Violino Rosso is now something more than it ever was. It is an instrument of beauty and torture. Lucius has only now to bestow it upon its rightful possessor.
"Play for me," Lucius orders. He looks quite kingly sitting in his chair with Severus before him, a proper recitalist, violin in one hand, bow in the other.
Severus starts to protest. Insists he is not worthy of such a handsome violin.
"Ah, but you are, Severus. In fact, no one is better suited to this violin than you are. Play." Lucius's last word is final. He is the sinecurist and what is Severus but an adulterer in dire need of reminding?
What Severus plays is not what he intends. It is practically unrecognisable and undoubtedly ear splitting. He is surprised when Lucius does not flinch. It is almost as though this cacophony were expected. He bows sul ponticello and sul tasto, but there is no distinction. Everything he plays sounds amateurish, and his apologies equally so.
And then Severus is told why.
"For every lie, for every indiscretion you have lost a note of your playing. It will take you twice as long to relearn what you have so shamelessly squandered."
Severus denies the allegations, but his falsehoods are as diaphanous as spider-spun gossamer. Any further efforts to thwart Lucius's anger are met with insults.
Lucius is all smiles having trapped his little fly in a web of deceit, but he couldn't be angrier. "Keep the violin," he says, "as a consolation prize."
Severus manages a weak goodbye and excuses himself before he's dismissed. Just as he's about to leave, Lucius tells him something he's already felt in the pit of his stomach since he first arrived.
"That good for nothing Regulus was just as useless in life as he was in death. You'll still be able to stroke him, though; just in different ways."
That winter, Severus gave up the violin.
Fin
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Lucius/Severus -- implied Severus/?
Warnings: A bit o' bloodplay, violence and gore, dark!ficcy
Disclaimer: Oh, so not mine -- this market's been cornered.
Summary: Lucius knows just how to punish Severus for his indiscretions.
Author notes: Written for
underlucius. Crossposted here to hp_literotica.Many thanks go to
sinick for betaing. Lucius Malfoy has only ever placed his trust in one man. Only ever confessed his secrets to one man. Only ever respected one man. And only ever loved one man. Such degrees of fondness were never easy for Lucius to allow, for he was not in the slightest a generous man.
Severus Snape, however, was able to chisel past the icy bleakness of his heart. This man was neither angel nor demon, but he commanded the forces of dark and light with his silver tongue and his mesmeric play. It was said his bow strokes could inspire the most downtrodden men into battle, sway the most unbending ears, and of course, lead an unwilling man to love.
But what a fool Lucius has been, blinded by treachery and duplicitous nature. Severus is his mirror reflection, and still he could not see past the lies and the deceit. It provokes in him another, stronger love: a love of vengeance. No man will have the better of Lucius without greater retribution. No man. Not even the man with whom he has shared a part of his life, a piece of his soul, and the whole of his heart.
Over time, Lucius unearths Severus's greatest weaknesses: failure and the inability to create with his hands. He knows with Severus there is no resisting what has been given him to see, touch, and feel.
Lucius scours the conservatories of Venice for the ideal violin, one that has been passed from virtuoso to virtuoso since its creation. It is perfect in a way that most would consider imperfect: a damaged scroll, a time-weathered body, and poorly tightened tuning pegs from which the strings have snapped. Despite its abysmal condition, Lucius declines the services of the luthier. Only he will be able to restore the Stradivarius to playing condition.
Lucius begins the arduous process by restaining the belly. Once the colour of burnished carmine, he surmises that the only way to regain the once lustrous sheen is through blood. He will take his ceremonial athame in hand and cut scissures into the pallid flesh of his Narcissa's arm. Brilliant, shining blood that breathes life into deadened, russet heartwood. Lucius doesn't like hurting her, but if he's been made to suffer than everyone else around him should be made to suffer as well.
Next, he restrings the violin with sinew from a recent kill. The sinew is entwined with sisal and catgut, strong and taut, because Lucius knows that Severus plays like he makes love; he is rough but loving. The strings are wound around pincer-shaped tuning pegs, and the traditional spiralled scroll is now the segmented arc of a scorpion's tail. Lucius finds that this is a fitting representation of his lover, both potent and poisonous.
He saves the bow for last; the back is ornately carved with the bodies of both incubus and succubus on opposite ends conjoined at the waist. Horsehair is replaced with locks of his own hair, golden silk that will catch the light with Severus's mad-passionate sautillé strokes. Lucius will lubricate the bow hairs with the tears of his newborn son. Tears he has never been able to cry for himself, for he has long since stoppered his hurt and his anger with emotional detachment and liaisons of his own.
Il Violino Rosso is now something more than it ever was. It is an instrument of beauty and torture. Lucius has only now to bestow it upon its rightful possessor.
"Play for me," Lucius orders. He looks quite kingly sitting in his chair with Severus before him, a proper recitalist, violin in one hand, bow in the other.
Severus starts to protest. Insists he is not worthy of such a handsome violin.
"Ah, but you are, Severus. In fact, no one is better suited to this violin than you are. Play." Lucius's last word is final. He is the sinecurist and what is Severus but an adulterer in dire need of reminding?
What Severus plays is not what he intends. It is practically unrecognisable and undoubtedly ear splitting. He is surprised when Lucius does not flinch. It is almost as though this cacophony were expected. He bows sul ponticello and sul tasto, but there is no distinction. Everything he plays sounds amateurish, and his apologies equally so.
And then Severus is told why.
"For every lie, for every indiscretion you have lost a note of your playing. It will take you twice as long to relearn what you have so shamelessly squandered."
Severus denies the allegations, but his falsehoods are as diaphanous as spider-spun gossamer. Any further efforts to thwart Lucius's anger are met with insults.
Lucius is all smiles having trapped his little fly in a web of deceit, but he couldn't be angrier. "Keep the violin," he says, "as a consolation prize."
Severus manages a weak goodbye and excuses himself before he's dismissed. Just as he's about to leave, Lucius tells him something he's already felt in the pit of his stomach since he first arrived.
"That good for nothing Regulus was just as useless in life as he was in death. You'll still be able to stroke him, though; just in different ways."
That winter, Severus gave up the violin.
Fin
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