"Eternal torment, Lucius," Voldemort hissed. "Eternal!"

"My lord..." It was hell, absolute hell, trying to pull the Voice of Reason on Voldemort. Voldemort knew when he was being patronized, and Lucius would pay for it. "Eternal is...such a difficult reality to enforce."

"Find a way." Oh, merde. Voldemort was cutting right past all the You dare question me, Lucius? and going right to the conclusion. Lucius was in for such a bad night.

He might as well speak his mind, then. Not like he had anything to lose. "May I ask what you had in mind, Lord? As a starting point."

Voldemort's eyes widened, then narrowed. Lucius could imagine the burn in his arse already. "Use a little fucking imagination, my pet. Why do you think I favor you?"

Because Dolohov has halitosis that could fell the Whomping Willow, and Bellatrix wants to be on top and you hate that, and Severus is such a screamer, and I'm the only one of us with an arse you can bounce a sickle off of. "My lord, death can only come to a man once. No matter how we prolong the death of the Boy Who Lived--and we can prolong it--it is still not eternal."

"Did I say death? These are stone walls, Lucius. If I had said the word "death," it should still be ringing off them in echoes. I did not say death." Voldemort's voice dropped. "I said torment."

"And as I said, my lord--" oh, he was in such trouble; might as well order the Hecate's Haemorrhoid Unguent now--"I would be obliged if you would tell me what sort of torment." Flensing is torment; so is fellatio by a partner with a chipped tooth. Specifics, my dear fucking lord, would be so very helpful.

"Lucius, do I need to supply every definition for you? A fine copy of Dugloss's Dictionary does not more than a galleon or two." Yes, that was the other reason Lucius was favored; ninety percent of the others wouldn't get the Dark Lord's humor. "You do know what eternal means?"

"Am I to assume that you want the Boy Who Lived made immortal, to fulfill your wishes? My lord, if immortality were so simple to attain, rest assured that all of us would have garnered that gift for ourselves. And for you. I see no other way to guarantee torment eternal."

If Voldemort's lip could have curled any further, it would have snapped like a windowshade. "Lucius, you fucking prick, the boy was my death. Or as near as. I will not be satisfied until he is suffering like no one has ever suffered! A curse ten times the strength of Cruciatus, that sustains itself..."

"It could be conceived, but for every curse, my lord, there is a countercurse. Someone could halt it; and there would still be the difficulty of keeping him alive through such torture."

"It sounds to me like you want an excuse not to try, Luciussss!"

The Dark Lord always got more siblant when he was angry; if one was standing in front of him, it was like a sudden shower had passed. "I want not to waste m- our time on the less likely outcomes." Lucius hoped he'd sounded something like humble. Not likely. He was a Malfoy, after all. Malfoys didn't do humble, even for Dark Lords.

"A cage, then. A cage in my throne room. With no key, no door. Enough food and water to make sure he does not die, and a lifetime of the many cruelties that we can devise."

"A cage with no door can still be broken apart. And it would have to possess anti-apparation wards, and those could be broken as well."

Oh, look. The lip-curl could get deeper. "Then imprisonment even more confining and terrible. Beneath the ground, alive within his own coffin..."

"Quite upsetting, yes. Note, my lord, that soon one is dead in one's own coffin. Not anything even approaching eternal."

"Then some spell that sustains him!"

"And such spells have counterspells. Yes, my lord, we can try, but he could be found; he could be saved or mercy-killed. Eternal torment is terrifying but it is conceptual, my lord!"

"Luciusss, I will not take no for an anssswer!"

It was the double-shower that did it.

Lucius lifted his wand. It was not Avada Kedavra, but it was just as deadly a spell when it struck the chest, of a wizard, of a mortal, of a man.

Voldemort toppled.

And a Voldemort-shaped shade lifted from his corpse.

"Luciusss!"

Still had the siblants, despite the lack of saliva. How interesting. "I have given you what you asked for, my lord. Or as near as. Now you may haunt the boy until the end of his days. A long-endured torment, if not exactly eternal, yes?"

Lucius thought it might be worth his while to let Potter know what he was in for. It couldn't hurt to be on the good side of The Boy Who Lived, now that the Second War was over.

Besides, the boy had a splendid Quidditch-toned arse. Lucius wondered if there was any chance that he bottomed.

End.