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kennahijjaTitle: Spinning Off Course (2 of 3)
Author: Hijja (kennahijja@yahoo.com)
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Harry/Lucius, Harry/Sirius, Harry/Rabastan
Warnings: non-con, dub-con, breathplay, voyeurism, bondage, assorted darker kinks
Summary: "Awful things have happened when wizards have meddled with time..."
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
amanuensis1 in ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
merry_smutmas 2006. Thanks to annephoenix, bellonablack, hummelchen and lazy_neutrino for beta, concrit and hand-holding! You guys rule!
Part 1
Harry was painfully aware of the burn of his cock inside his trousers. Sirius, shifting purposefully against him, could not possibly overlook it. He didn't. Instead, he made a low, appreciative sound and reached between their bodies to cup Harry's prick through his trousers. It jumped, a spike of fire running through Harry as if a nail had been hammered right into the base of his skull. He whimpered and ground against Sirius's palm.
"It's the lust component of the potion kicking in, nothing more." Sirius kneaded Harry's prick for another moment, then reached for the button of his jeans. "We'll take care of it."
Feeling the button give, Harry's hand flew up but shakily stopped when his fingertips encountered Sirius's wrist.
"No, let me unwrap my present, Harry," Sirius whispered, breathing wetly against the soft spot below Harry's ear. Then Sirius's lips touched him there, making him shiver and want and drowning out the crude rasp of the zipper being pulled down. Harry arched his neck as Sirius used his tongue to draw tiny circles on his skin, before sucking the wet patch into his mouth in a languid, delicious pull. Sirius dipped his head back and traced Harry's bruised throat under its perfectly unmarked skin.
Harry felt bereft when Sirius drew back to slide his trousers over his hips, hooking fingers into his waistband to pull his underpants down along with them. He keened softly in protest as the cloth caught on his cock in a maddening rub. Then it was past his knees, his cock coming free. The wet tip felt icy in the air for a moment.
"Step out," Sirius told him as the crumpled pants tangled around his ankles. Harry's trainers were so worn that they slipped off his heels with no effort at all. He could feel the humiliating bob of his prick as he moved.
"Very nice, Harry..." Sirius ran his hands up Harry's flanks and sides, painting stripes of trembling want onto his flesh that seemed to pull his cock upwards in their wake.
Sirius shucked his robe in an uninhibited, snake-like motion as if it were completely normal to undress in front of a roomful of people. Harry caught an eyeful of pronounced brown nipples, wiry yet elegant muscles and a trail of black hair running down towards Sirius's groin like a pointer to his cock. He looked away from that quickly, but Sirius chuckled deep in his throat and drew Harry along with him to the armchair he'd sat in before. He crawled into it, the light brown of his skin, creamy where the sun had not marked it, standing out in stark contrast against the smooth black leather. The scent of it, subtle but feral, crept right into Harry's hapless prick.
Harry gasped when Sirius pulled him into his lap. The armchair was buttersoft against his heated skin and seemed to magically expand to accommodate them both. He ended up straddling Sirius, inhaling sharply as the flushed cock he hadn't been looking at rubbed against his own erection. Harry's knees and feet awkwardly locked around Sirius's thighs.
He groaned out loud when Sirius caught both their pricks in one palm, crushing them together until head brushed head and Harry nearly opened his mouth to beg for more of it, and more again until he came. His palms slid off the armrests, gravitating towards Sirius's shoulders to hold on to that glorious skin. Every inch of his flesh prickled with need; the fire in his cock and the fierce ache in his balls, which felt swollen to Quaffle size, were maddening.
Sirius's upper lip set into the most kissable curve Harry had ever seen. He released his hold on their pricks, and a wandless "Accio, bottle!" sent a small glass container hurtling through the air towards them. It slapped into Sirius's palm like an over-energetic Snitch. The top, shaped in the form of a coiled snake with tiny rubies for eyes, reared up to spit a glob of oil into Sirius's palm.
Sirius breathed in the fragrant scent, then grinned like a boy and swiped a long, oily smear up their still-aligned pricks. Harry almost screamed while Sirius exhaled, deeply and luxuriously. His long black eyelashes fluttered shut for a moment. The feel of Sirius's fingers rubbing viscous oil over his aching prick made Harry's balls contract, but Sirius caught the base of his cock just in time to press down around the enflamed flesh and catch the spurt of wet that had dribbled from the tip. He wiped it off with his index finger and stuck it into Harry's open mouth.
"Not yet," he admonished. "Wait till I tell you, will you?"
Harry had no choice with the grip around the base of his cock and Sirius's palm pressing down on his balls in a subtle warning. He gritted his teeth, sucked precome and oil off the fingers in his mouth, and squirmed restlessly on Sirius's lap.
"Cup your hands, Harry," Sirius murmured against Harry's collarbone, where his lips elicited a delicious shiver. Harry did, and the snake-bottle, its jewel eyes aglitter, spewed more oil into his hand.
He caught the spill and allowed Sirius's hand to guide him to Sirius's erection that was now poking up aggressively from a black thatch of hair. He slid his palm over Sirius's cock, longer than Lestrange's but without that gagging width. It curved arrogantly upwards in a way that was quintessentially Sirius. Harry stroked it carefully, his fingertips memorising the smooth shaft, the swell of the head. A groan rumbled in Sirius's chest as Harry rubbed his oily fingers over the length, pushed a little at the foreskin to help the head emerge further, then squeezed the crown lightly. Sirius's head dipped back in pleasure, and Harry surrendered to the lure of that marvellous skin and pressed his mouth to Sirius's shoulder, never stopping his ministrations until Sirius shoved him away from his groin with a breathless laugh.
"Enough, or you'll have me lose control before I'm inside you." Sirius hoisted him up higher until Harry was nearly curled around his upper body, and cupped one of his arse cheeks in a firm squeeze. "Put your arms around my neck."
Harry did, hiding his face in the inky cloud of Sirius's hair. He felt his legs being spread until his calves were pressed into the armrests. Sirius smeared more hand-warmed oil between his buttocks, and Harry muffled his voice against Sirius's neck, too scared to move his lead-filled limbs. The touch buzzed through his nervous system like an electric current. It was wrongness incarnate, but it made his cock jump.
He had to distract his mind with the scent of Sirius's hair and skin as Sirius's slick fingertip played over his hole: teasing and dipping in, slipping out and back inside, rotating deeper with more oil dripping over Harry's crack and balls. His godfather was gentle, infinitely so, and had they been alone instead of putting on a sick show for a bunch of Death Eaters, the careful attentions might have made Harry glow. Still, his arse heated to a mottled pink, and sweat was pooling in the creases of his thighs. Sirius's finger was deep inside him now, liberally spreading oil into him, and Harry could feel Sirius's cock, a wet, insistent heat against his belly. The finger inside him crooked ever so slightly, and a wild heat shot through Harry's body. He jerked and whimpered.
"Ready?" Sirius whispered, his voice raw.
Harry, who wasn't and could never remotely be ready, hissed, "I don't want this!" with real effort, although his body was prepared to undergo just about everything to get Sirius's hand back on his cock.
"I know, poor thing." Sirius licked a long wet stripe up Harry's neck and kissed his cheek. "But your body does, badly. Don't be afraid. I'll be gentle."
But you'll still do it, Harry thought bitterly, slowly coming out of the mire of obedience Snape's potion had dunked him into. He could think of fighting now, but this was Sirius. He said nothing more, just nodded weakly into Sirius's neck.
He found Sirius's hands on his hips and felt himself being lifted and spun around. When Sirius settled him back on his lap he was facing the room. For once, Harry was glad for his short-sightedness, which spared him details of the gleeful faces trained on him. He scrabbled for balance in order not to fall back onto Sirius's cock and heard Bellatrix shriek with laughter. "A Potter, and no doubt about it! Just look at those knobbly knees!"
"Shush," Sirius whispered as Harry stiffened in his arms, burying his spread knees into the gap where armrests and cushion seat met. "Close your eyes. There's no one here but us. No one else matters."
Harry squeezed his lids so tightly shut that his eyeballs felt bruised and allowed Sirius's hands to guide him slowly backward until he encountered the hot press of Sirius's erection against his arse.
"Relax." Sirius told him, mouth ghosting over the bumps of Harry's vertebrae. Harry tried, honestly tried, but this was nothing like the way he'd pictured his first time to be. And despite his ignorance about actual sex, he knew that this sort of thing hurt and he'd seen - and oiled - the fair-sized cock that was now seeking entrance. Most of all, he was aware of the pitiful smallness of his anus. His skin felt too small for his body somehow, alternating between cold sweat and panicked heat as Sirius's cock nestled between his buttocks. His finger trembled against the leather of the chair.
Then Sirius reached down to adjust himself and presence became pressure. It did hurt. The burn of never-before strained muscles increased in force until Harry feared something would tear inside him. But it was a pain that remained this side of bearable, singeing his nerve ends but not burning them to ashes. Sirius slid in gradually, supporting Harry's weight with one arm to make sure gravity would not impale him too deep, too fast. It was like sinking inch by inch into a too-hot bath, only that the burn flared inside him. The oil eased Sirius along as he inched forward with tiny pushes, filling Harry further and further until he thought he was going to burst. It felt as if Sirius was taking him over, slipping right into Harry's skin to inhabit it alongside him.
Finally Harry felt Sirius's thighs under his buttocks, and the small bumps of his balls in his crack. Sirius barely breathed beneath him, moving only to clasp his hand around Harry's prick which, marvellously, had hardly softened at all. Harry's breath hitched at the firm touch. He gave a tiny upward thrust that stole the air from his own and Sirius's lungs simultaneously.
The soft wool of a robe sleeve brushed his shoulder, and Harry's eyes flew open; he'd forgotten Lucius Malfoy's presence, and now recoiled against Sirius's chest when the man stepped up behind the armchair. But Malfoy ignored him. Instead, he picked the oil bottle from the coffee table and sniffed it delicately. "Mortar & Pestle's custom-made finest? You're generous, Sirius."
"I prefer my partners to enjoy themselves." Sirius's voice stumbled over the first syllable, then sounded as steady as if he wasn't buried to the balls inside Harry's arse, or digging white-knuckled fingers into the flesh of his hips.
"I always suspected there was something more to your excessive feud with James Potter." Malfoy's fingers played with the sweat-soaked tangles at the back of Sirius's head, which Harry watched from the corner of his eye with instant rage. "Such passionate hatred..."
"I wouldn't mind fucking Potter to put him in his place." Sirius shrugged nonchalantly. "But want him? No. If I could have any of the Marauders, I'd pick Lupin."
"Why am I not surprised?" Snape's voice, low and cold. "The werewolf who almost killed me."
"Merlin, Snape, will you get over it?" Sirius snapped. "I had no idea he was a werewolf when I paid you to find out what he was up to in the Shrieking Shack. And you had your revenge when he was expelled and his wand broken."
"Although I heard that He offered him protection and only insisted on his expulsion when the stupid wolf refused it," Rabastan said.
"I still fail to see what you'd want with the mangy beast." Bellatrix grimaced and nuzzled Rodolphus's neck. "Dumbledore must have been mad to admit him to Hogwarts. They even say he was Fenrir Greyback's get."
"Ah, still..." Rodolphus reclined further into the cushions to allow her mouth better access. "Black having dirty thoughts about waif-wolf Lupin? This I've got to hear."
"Oh, yes," Sirius murmured, holding out his hand to Malfoy. The man upended the bottle and it spat another stream of oil into Sirius's palm. Sirius shifted ever so slightly inside Harry, stimulating that spot until Harry threw his head back.
"You see, Rodolphus," Sirius murmured in a low, silky voice that drew every eye in the room, "I have this fantasy about picking up Lupin when he's prowling the shadier nooks of wizarding London in search for food, or work..."
A shameful noise escaped Harry's throat when Sirius wrapped his oil-dripping hand round his prick again, warm, slippery and terribly deft on the throbbing length. Lestrange's eyes were fixed on them; he was licking his lips unconsciously.
"I would invite Lupin home to Grimmauld Place, and have the house-elves prepare a sumptuous feast for him in the great dining room," Sirius continued in what Harry could only think of as a bedroom voice. The sound of it went right to his groin, further torturing his prick. "I would watch him eat, oh, well-mannered and trying to go slow, cutting his chicken legs with knife and fork rather than tearing the flesh off them as he'd like to. And then I'd push his plate away, and shove him flat on his back on the table amidst all the trays and dishes and smells." Sirius slid comfortably lower in his chair, shifting his angle again, and Harry clawed at the armrests when the heat exploded inside him. Sirius didn't seem to notice – he played with Harry's slippery cock and continued his tale.
"I'd peel the shabby clothes right off him and spread him open with hot butter or béchamel sauce, and he'd let me, because he's Gryffindor and would think he owes me. I'd fuck him face-up on the table until I'd have carved the shape of my cock into his arse." Harry's chest burned with indignation for Remus's sake, who did not deserve having such a picture painted of him, but Sirius's voice caressed his skin and the images didn't leave his head. "And afterwards I'd sent him on his way in new robes and with a bag of Galleons for his trouble, to think about what his beloved James Potter would say if he ever found out."
"Holy Merlin, Black!" Lestrange laughed in breathless admiration. "You really are one sick bastard!"
"Well, Rodolphus, you asked." Sirius smirked into the curve of Harry's neck. "And now, if you don't mind, I'd like to fuck my little morsel here."
Harry's face flamed until Sirius nipped at his shoulder and made him forget, face and neck suffusing with colour of a different nature.
Sirius didn't thrust into him, though. He rocked in a maddening slow rhythm, one hand on Harry's cock, the other holding Harry's hips steady so that he couldn't even fuck himself on the erection inside him.
With sick fascination, Harry watched his cock being massaged in Sirius's hand, glistening with oil and so dark that even looking at it hurt. The head was fully emerged and stretched the foreskin painfully wide. The dribble of precome from the gaping slit, teased and tugged at by Sirius's thumbnail, had almost stopped and left the slit stand out as an inflamed, gaping dent.
The glans poked up from a perfect circle of thumb and index finger like a blind, slimy worm being prodded and forced out of its hidey-hole. Harry stared at it, ache thrumming in every nerve. His spine was bowed with need; a bit further, and he might be able to lick the rigid, swollen organ. He'd never wanted to come this badly in his life, but Sirius's 'Wait till I tell you' kept him on the edge, powerless to force his release.
Harry hardly felt it when Sirius came, the need in his balls and prick overriding every other sensation; there was a soft groan, and Sirius's hand tightened around him. Harry cried out in real pain and the death grip loosened until all that remained were feather-light fingertips whose touch hurt almost as much for want of pressure.
Sirius remained firmly sheathed inside him, dropping kisses up the side of Harry's neck in consolation before speeding up his oily slides and squeezes on Harry's prick, rubbing until Harry's eyes were burning with unshed tears of frustration. He was babbling "Please!" and "Sirius!" and "Ohgod let me come!" in random combinations, hardly aware he was doing it at all. How could Sirius be so bloody cruel!
Sirius gave his prick a few more gratuitous tugs before murmuring, "Now, Harry!"
Orgasm exploded out of Harry and ripped a shrill scream from his lungs. Come splattered over his chin and chest in surprising quantities. His cock jerked several times to rid itself of seed, pushing out a final glob of come that dribbled down his thigh in one last bone-crushing contraction. Tears poured down Harry's cheeks as he lay in Sirius's arms like a tattered rag.
Sirius stroked his head and face during the shocks, murmuring endearments Harry failed to comprehend. When Harry's limbs had stopped trembling, Sirius lifted him off his lap and slipped his cock free. More mess dripped down Harry's inner thighs, and he was lucky that Sirius didn't let go of him because he wobbled on his feet, too overcome to stand unaided. Summoning his wand, Sirius cast a cleaning charm over them both, as if Harry would be able to forget the stains just because the physical evidence was gone. Harry winced as the magic rushed over the tormented flesh of his prick.
Then Sirius kissed him fully on the mouth, so softly that it barely stung Harry's bitten lips. "Thank you, Harry Potter."
Harry's first, undiluted reaction was rage. Sirius had used his potion-addled state to torment him in front of his crowd, worse even than his Sirius had done with Snape in the Pensieve. He pulled free from Sirius's hand and clung to the armrest of the chair instead.
"A very stimulating display indeed," Lucius Malfoy commented, clapping his hands once in a supremely exaggerated gesture. He stood behind Sirius's seated form, close enough for Harry to see his expression. It wasn't friendly. Not at all.
"Indeed," Sirius replied with a smug undertone that Harry wanted to punch off his face. "I'll have to thank Professor Riddle for sending such a delicious gift to excuse his absence."
"Voldemort?" Harry yelled, although his inner voice told him 'who else, you dolt' with an audible sneer.
Snape and Regulus rolled their eyes in unison, and Lucius rapped him on the head with his knuckles.
"There is no need to warm up that silly old childhood nickname, boy!"
"Childhood nickname?" Harry felt as if the world had dropped out from under his feet and was now spinning merrily beside him.
"It might have been entertaining for some time after Dumbledore touted young Tom's schoolboy arrogance all over the place along with the fact that the Heir of Slytherin was of half-blood descent, but it's very old news now." Malfoy sneered. "But yes, indeed, we are talking about Tom Marvolo Riddle, Deputy Headmaster, Defence against the Dark Arts Professor and Head of Slytherin House at Hogwarts. Heir of Slytherin, Professor at nineteen, renowned for his ground-breaking research on Truth Spells. Defeated the Hogwarts Basilisk and single-handedly took out Fenrir Greyback and his gang of werewolves. I'd hand you the Chocolate Frog card, but I haven't got one on me right now."
"You could try and be a bit more respectful about the Professor, Lucius," Bellatrix snapped, but Harry didn't listen any more. Everything was falling into place now – Sirius in Slytherin making nice with all the junior Death Eaters, Sirius’s dead parents, Tom Riddle teaching the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. The Time Spinner had been malfunctioning after all. This wasn't his, Harry's past – it was some spin-off place the damaged artefact had dropped him in by accident!
"It's not me who's being disrespectful, Bella," Lucius replied coolly. "There are more fitting candidates in this room, especially this insolent boy. Now," Malfoy picked up a champagne flute from the table and raised it to his lips, "shall we punish the foolish little slut?"
"We really should," Rabastan chimed in. "Besides, he walked into an assembly of Slytherin's Chosen, and should have to prove himself like one in exchange for freedom."
Prove himself? Harry nearly choked on his tongue with rage. He had done enough already to amuse the sick bastards!
Malfoy smirked at Sirius in what could only be described as a challenge. "Let him play for his freedom like a Slytherin. If he fails, Sirius will have a new and only slightly damaged magical artefact for his collection, and one of us a trainable little delicacy for entertainment."
Lestrange snorted. "Well, outside Sirius's hands he certainly has no skills to speak of. Though there are some wizarding... establishments in Knockturn Alley which would be glad to take him in for training. A time-travelling half-blood, related to the Potters? Harold and James have made their share of enemies among the pureblood crowd who would find such a prospect highly appealing." Harry's stomach nearly heaved at the thought.
"Unless, of course," Malfoy threw in silkily, "our friend Sirius decides to take up Professor Riddle's kind offer. Slytherin's Chosen will forgive much to please one of their own."
When he spoke at last, Sirius's voice had an undertone of weariness. "If you want him, Lucius, why not just say so?"
"Oh, it's not so much that I want him. I'm merely curious about a child who manages to affect ruthless, self-centred Sirius Black this much."
Bellatrix's voice cut through the exchange. "Well, I for one am not going to watch you two-time my pregnant sister, Lucius!"
Unruffled, Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her. "How narrow-mindedly Muggle of you, Bella."
Her eyes narrowed, fingers inching towards the pocket that had to hold her wand. Lucius blithely ignored the danger and poked a finger against Harry's chest.
"This boy is well beyond any protection a pureblood youth could lay claim to. Hardly something a witch of true breeding like my wife would take offence at. Besides..." He smirked, and Rodolphus caught Bellatrix's hand rather quickly to prevent disaster. "...Cissa and I do not begrudge each other a bit of diversion."
"Well, I will take my husband upstairs and give him something better to do than watch and lust after schoolboys," Bellatrix announced, slipping off the sofa and tugging Rodolphus after her.
"Ah, Bella," Rabastan sighed exaggeratedly. "None of us would lust after schoolboys if we had managed to snare you!" His gaze flickered towards Malfoy. "Well, hardly any of us."
Sirius hid a lopsided grin from Malfoy's eye and nodded at the couple. "You know your way to the upstairs bedrooms." He locked eyes with his cousin, none of them colouring the slightest. "Have fun."
"Let's leave the poor little lamb to the wolves." Bellatrix paused on her way to the door to pat Harry's cheek, and he flinched away from the blood-red nails with a hiss.
"Ah, one of those who'll only respond to a man's touch..." She clucked her tongue. "Well, Lucius will give you that and a lot more besides." She proudly sashayed to the door, red skirts swirling around her ankles, her consort in tow.
"And Lucius is famous for his skill at the game, isn't he, Black?" Snape pointed out malevolently after the padded door had fallen shut behind them.
Malfoy bowed to him, braid falling over his shoulder. "Ah, the game..." He turned a malicious gaze on Harry, and Harry wondered if the man disliked something he saw in him, or if he only served as a stick to beat Sirius with.
"Quite a common entertainment in Slytherin house," Malfoy explained. "The rules are simple: you get two vetoes – if you can't handle something I do, say so and I'll switch to something else. If you beg a third time, you lose and become ours." He leered at Harry. "Do you want to play, Potter?"
"No," Harry said coldly, with as much pride as he had left, naked and after everybody had seen him beg and come. "But I will." Then a flash of inspiration hit and the words tumbled out of his mouth before he had time to second-guess them. "I'll play you, Malfoy. But since this is a Slytherin thing, and I'm not a Slytherin, I want an extra favour apart from walking out with my Time Spinner."
Malfoy cocked his head expectantly while Sirius propped his chin onto his hand and studied Harry with watchful eyes. Even Snape, Rabastan and Regulus seemed to lean forward in their seats.
"Go on," Malfoy said, studying his perfectly manicured fingernails.
"Every time I don't beg out of whatever you're doing, I want a question answered."
"Questions again?" Malfoy asked. "Oh well. Granted unless I think it's sensitive information. Does that satisfy you, young Potter?"
Harry's face set into a humourless grimace. "Not really, no. But it'll do."
"Very well," Malfoy purred. He took Harry's arm and led him, still naked, into the middle of the room, then took a step back and left him to stand there on cold bare feet.
"Lift your arms, and cross them over your head."
Harry glared, but obeyed. He could feel the pulse hammering in his wrists as he put them together, feeling utterly silly. Malfoy waved his wand and a length of rope sprouted from the ceiling, wrapping itself several times around Harry's wrists before pulling taut. He could still comfortably stand without having to balance on tiptoe, but the pose strained his shoulder muscles and if he let his arms sag, the rope cut into his flesh.
He took deep breaths to calm himself. Struggling and panicking would make him look even more stupid, and it would be futile. He could see that much in Malfoy's predatory face.
The bastard circled him slowly, studying Harry's goose-fleshed body from all angles before giving one of his buttocks an ungentle squeeze. Harry bit his tongue to stop himself from calling him all sorts of well-deserved names.
"Yes, this will do nicely. But first... Veritamar!"
Harry felt the spell settling over his chest, a slight but noticeable pressure. "What-?" he croaked.
"Don't play innocent, boy," Malfoy sneered in his ear, causing Harry to turn his head away. "You know what the spell does."
"I've never heard it before!" Harry protested.
"I don't believe it," Harry heard Regulus mutter. "A wand that powerful, and not a shred of education to go with it."
"Ah, but if he's from a different timeline than ours, he might really not know." At this point Snape's voice became downright smug. "After all, it was Professor Riddle who invented Veritamar."
"Well, real or pretence, that ignorance can be remedied," Malfoy drawled. "Unlike truth potions, Potter, the spell will not compel you to tell the truth. If you lie, however..." He touched Harry's chest where the pressure was strongest, "it will stop your heart. Just like that."
The touch turned intimate, whispering over the curve of Harry's ribs, catching at his right nipple. "An escape of sorts." Malfoy was so close that his robes rubbed against Harry's naked back and his body moulded against Harry's buttocks. "But I don't think you want to escape that way, do you? I think you're a survivor, Potter."
If he weren't all nervous gooseflesh, Harry might have found that funny.
"So tell us, boy – did Albus Dumbledore send you to spy on us?"
Harry tried to ignore Malfoy's proximity. "No." The Headmaster was dead, after all.
Malfoy turned to the table Snape and Regulus were sitting at, his silver-trimmed cloak swirling around his ankles. "Does that calm your fears, Severus?"
Snape scowled, but didn't respond. Instead, Sirius spoke up. "Has Tom Riddle brought you here?"
"No!" Harry yelled, outraged at the very thought.
Sirius scrutinised him for a moment, then nodded imperceptibly. "No curses or hexes," he told Malfoy, and a green ray from his own wand took the truth spell's weight off Harry's chest.
"Well, we're not training him for initiation into the Chosen," Malfoy replied. "I'll be happy to take my cue from the theme of the evening: the erotic arts – in the widest sense."
Malfoy flicked his wand at Harry again, and a broad strip of black cloth flew at Harry's face, wrapping itself around his head and obscuring his vision. Thrown into sudden darkness, Harry's body stiffened. He tugged at his bonds, then forced himself to stop. There would be worse to come; Malfoy wanted him helpless and rattled, and panicking over a blindfold would only play into his hands.
Harry perked his ears, trying to make out Malfoy's position. Cloth rustled beside him, and a fingertip touched the strained muscle of his upper arm, tracing it up to the armpit before running over the sparse hair growing there. It bloody tickled. Harry tried to twist out of the way, but to no avail. Not allowing him escape, Malfoy tugged at the hairs until Harry bit his tongue in order not to yelp. Somehow, not being able to see or anticipate where Malfoy might be moving next magnified even small discomforts.
"My question!" he protested, more to distract Malfoy's attention from his armpits than from real curiosity.
Malfoy just laughed. "You don't consider putting on bonds and a blindfold as praiseworthy achievements, I hope?"
The bastard kept circling him, fingers unerringly finding the most ticklish spots at his ribs. It took quite some effort not to squirm. Sweat broke out over Harry's body, and he was dying to scratch himself raw.
There was a moment's pause as if Malfoy was devising a new evil. Recalling the man's derisive laugh, Harry kept his mouth firmly shut. This wasn't too bad yet. Still he squeaked when he felt all five of Malfoy's fingernails digging into his left buttock, drawing long, parallel scratches from the top of his thigh up the fleshy cheek. It didn't hurt precisely, but created a cold sort of burn that jumbled Harry's nerves. Malfoy scraped over Harry's other buttock, his upper thighs and finally over his itching sides where it was more bliss than ache despite the welts the nails had to leave behind.
And then Malfoy's hand detoured without warning, closing around Harry's dormant prick with hardly less force than Sirius had in his moment of ecstasy. It bloody hurt, rough and possessive and Harry had a 'No!' of protest on his tongue before he realised that Malfoy would construe that as a veto. Uncomfortable as the grip was – not to mention embarrassing – Harry could bear it.
"Shall we see whether there's still a bit of Severus's potion running through your system?" Malfoy asked, tugging at the helpless prick with no care whatsoever. To Harry's ultimate humiliation, the persistent stimulation made his groin twitch. His prick was filling, not a lot, but enough to be noticeable.
"It looks that way, doesn't it?" Malfoy commented, the heartless fuck! "Well, either that or you're a whore at heart, Potter."
He dropped Harry's prick like a cold potato after proving his point, and Harry felt the tip of a wand touch the base of his throat. "Let's see what else gets a reaction, shall we? Obstringo!"
A hard leather something came into being around Harry's neck, rough against the sensitive skin of his throat. It felt like a broad collar, reaching from below his chin to his collarbone. Sweat pooled at Harry's neck and his eyes went wide under the blindfold when Malfoy's wand tapped the thing. It tightened from loose to snug with a hint of constriction.
"No!" Horrible memories of Lestrange choking him with his prick while the enchanted cord bit into his windpipe filled Harry's head. The invisible bruises still ached on the inside of his throat.
"Are you begging?" Malfoy asked silkily.
Harry craned his head, trying to tell himself that he could handle this; Malfoy wouldn't kill him. But a wave of horror crested over his brain, and the collar seemed to pulse against his Adam's apple, tightening further...
"Please!" Harry wheezed, arching his neck against the grip of the collar. "Take it off!"
Another tap of the wand and the monstrosity's hold loosened. Harry expelled a shaky breath of relief when Malfoy pulled it off him. He touched the base of Harry's throat and stroked it lightly.
"Well, boy; that leaves you with only one opt out." There was no way of overhearing the smugness in Malfoy's tone, and Harry swore to himself that he wouldn't give the bastard that satisfaction again, no matter what he did. There would be no surrender to fear from now on!
"Now, Potter, how about something different?" Malfoy continued. "You heard Sirius regale us with his intriguing fantasy about Lupin, didn't you? Or were you too preoccupied?" Harry scowled. "Now, tell us whom you desire."
Heat climbed into Harry's cheeks, and he hoped the broad fabric of the blindfold would hide some of it. The bastard had to be kidding! There was no way he'd air out his most private thoughts in the shameless way Sirius had. Not to mention that he had no idea what to say. Images of Ginny's freckled skin and Fleur's memorable chest appeared in front of his inner eye, followed out of the blue by a flash to Sirius's naked chest. In a burst of rage, Harry stiffened his neck and glared in the direction Malfoy had to be standing.
"How about you on your knees sucking me off?" he growled. It wasn't an utter lie, but driven by vengeance rather than by a desire to come into contact with any part of Malfoy's anatomy. Still he was glad the truth spell was no longer on him.
He heard more than one of the onlookers chuckle, and then Rabastan's amused, "Nicely played, Potter."
Malfoy's own soft laugh ghosted over his chest and dread scuttled through Harry's nerves. Malfoy caught hold of his left nipple and squeezed it none too gently. "Nicely played indeed," he murmured. "Yes, I think I will do that. Although you might come to regret it."
Harry gulped as Malfoy's hand slid over his chest; cloth rustled again when Malfoy knelt, fingers coming to rest on Harry's hip. Harry could almost see the man arranging his robes to pool around him in neat folds. His skin crawled. He'd expected Malfoy to slap him for that line, not to act on it!
Malfoy's other hand wrapped around his prick and lifted it up. Cool lips caressed the head, warming around his flesh. The first brush of tongue made Harry groan, his cock going from bruised and shy to rapidly swelling. It was still sensitive, but Malfoy lapped at it so carefully, sucked the tip so gently that the discomfort faded almost at once. Tiny sucks coaxed the head out of its foreskin, seeking attention as if it hadn't had way too much of that at Sirius's hands just half an hour ago.
It took an embarrassingly short time until Harry was fully hard, his prick straining lustily into the cavern of Malfoy's mouth and sliming his tongue with precome.
Malfoy snaked his index finger backwards to stroke Harry's scrotum, tickling the soft fuzz of hair there and playing with the plumping balls until they constricted in their loose skin covering.
When Malfoy swallowed around his prick, lips stretched so far they almost closed around the base, Harry made an inarticulate "Nng!" noise, glad for the blindfold because if he'd had to watch, he'd either have died of mortification or come minutes ago. Just how had his legs ended up spread and his hips jutting forward to maximise contact with Malfoy's mouth? Heat pooled in Harry's balls, fired up by the delicate scrape of Malfoy's teeth along the side of his erection.
He squeezed his eyes shut, neck prickling, and invited orgasm to strike when Malfoy slid his lips off his over-heated cock and, with a raspy voice, muttered "Obstringo!" again.
Breath rattled in Harry's lungs as he gulped for air, but this time the pressure did not form around his neck. Instead, something invisible tightened around the base of his cock like congealing air, biting down on the engorged flesh until any thought of coming had been chased out of Harry's head. The interrupted blood flow hurt even as it left him painfully hard and panting.
"Bloody fucker!" he cursed the invisible presence that was Malfoy.
"Now, now, boy, show some patience," the bastard commented. "There will be plenty of time for that later."
Only the thought that Malfoy had to have the taste of Harry in his mouth right down to his tonsils consoled Harry enough not to scream abuse when Malfoy gave his swollen prick a squeeze. It seemed impossible for it to get any harder than it already was with the constriction around it, but it did. Harry heard the leather of Malfoy's boots creak as he rose to his feet. Malfoy put a finger that smelled distinctly of Harry over Harry's snarling mouth.
"I'll take your mind off things," he promised, voice smoky and superior although all his associates had just seen him on his knees sucking a half-blood's prick. Shame seemed to be an unknown concept to these Slytherins.
Harry could hear Malfoy casting "Accio!" once more. Someone sucked in an audible breath, and Rabastan Lestrange murmured, "Oh, nice!" followed by Malfoy's lazy drawl.
"How about a little bet, Sirius? Will he succumb to this?"
There was a pause, as if Sirius was pondering the question. "I doubt it, Lucius," he replied at last. "Underneath his pliant appearance, I think he's quite a fighter."
Oh, thanks so bloody much for the vote of confidence and no help! Harry raged inwardly. And he wasn't pliant! He'd thought he couldn't hate Sirius any more than he already did for dying, but now... he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to separate the memory of his godfather from this.
"You owe me an answer!" he rasped, hoping to postpone whatever Malfoy had in mind now.
"For pleasuring you?" Malfoy asked, irony dripping like runny custard from a hot apple tart.
"Like hell you did!" Harry muttered, cheeks very warm again. "Vol- Tom Riddle. How did he become a Hogwarts teacher?" That was the part he still couldn't buy – he'd seen Dumbledore reject Riddle with his own eyes in the Pensieve.
"Why, Albus Dumbledore hired him only a year after he'd left school," Malfoy replied. "It created quite a stir, especially after the old codger himself leaked his heritage to the Daily Prophet. Those who didn't object to Riddle's youth protested him being a Parselmouth and Slytherin's heir, and those who saw no offence in that objected to his Muggle blood. When Sirius's parents were still alive, they considered him a 'filthy half-blood'." He snorted delicately. "Of course Dumbledore wanted to keep an eye on him because he'd always feared his powers, but a few months later Riddle located and destroyed the Hogwarts' Basilisk and became an instant hero in the eyes of the magical community."
"But..." Harry sputtered, trying to ignore the way his prick and balls throbbed. "Riddle hates Muggles. Dumbledore would never-"
"He doesn't hate Muggles!" Regulus Black's voice was shrill and angry. "He just hates the way the Ministry enslaves wizardkind in the name of 'Muggle protection'. His own father was a Muggle, after all."
"And that doesn't bother you?" Harry asked, incredulous.
"No!" Regulus exclaimed, a bit too forcefully. "He wants us to be free to develop our potential no matter what background. Even Severus here is a half-blood. All that matters is a wizard's power."
"Why, boy, it sounds as if the dear Professor's background troubles you." Malfoy stepped up behind Harry and ran cool fingers over his bottom. "A little traditionalist, are you? And here I thought the Potters were so liberal – after all, old Harold allowed his only heir to marry a Mudblood."
"Muggleborn!" Harry hissed. The bastard was talking about his mother.
"What a contradictory little creature you are," Malfoy murmured, hand still cupping Harry's buttock. "But I think you've had your question answered." He let go and took a step back. "Now let's see how much of a fighter you are – brace yourself."
~ Part 3 ~
Author: Hijja (kennahijja@yahoo.com)
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Harry/Lucius, Harry/Sirius, Harry/Rabastan
Warnings: non-con, dub-con, breathplay, voyeurism, bondage, assorted darker kinks
Summary: "Awful things have happened when wizards have meddled with time..."
Notes: Written for
amanuensis1 in merry_smutmas 2006. Thanks to annephoenix, bellonablack, hummelchen and lazy_neutrino for beta, concrit and hand-holding! You guys rule!Part 1
Harry was painfully aware of the burn of his cock inside his trousers. Sirius, shifting purposefully against him, could not possibly overlook it. He didn't. Instead, he made a low, appreciative sound and reached between their bodies to cup Harry's prick through his trousers. It jumped, a spike of fire running through Harry as if a nail had been hammered right into the base of his skull. He whimpered and ground against Sirius's palm.
"It's the lust component of the potion kicking in, nothing more." Sirius kneaded Harry's prick for another moment, then reached for the button of his jeans. "We'll take care of it."
Feeling the button give, Harry's hand flew up but shakily stopped when his fingertips encountered Sirius's wrist.
"No, let me unwrap my present, Harry," Sirius whispered, breathing wetly against the soft spot below Harry's ear. Then Sirius's lips touched him there, making him shiver and want and drowning out the crude rasp of the zipper being pulled down. Harry arched his neck as Sirius used his tongue to draw tiny circles on his skin, before sucking the wet patch into his mouth in a languid, delicious pull. Sirius dipped his head back and traced Harry's bruised throat under its perfectly unmarked skin.
Harry felt bereft when Sirius drew back to slide his trousers over his hips, hooking fingers into his waistband to pull his underpants down along with them. He keened softly in protest as the cloth caught on his cock in a maddening rub. Then it was past his knees, his cock coming free. The wet tip felt icy in the air for a moment.
"Step out," Sirius told him as the crumpled pants tangled around his ankles. Harry's trainers were so worn that they slipped off his heels with no effort at all. He could feel the humiliating bob of his prick as he moved.
"Very nice, Harry..." Sirius ran his hands up Harry's flanks and sides, painting stripes of trembling want onto his flesh that seemed to pull his cock upwards in their wake.
Sirius shucked his robe in an uninhibited, snake-like motion as if it were completely normal to undress in front of a roomful of people. Harry caught an eyeful of pronounced brown nipples, wiry yet elegant muscles and a trail of black hair running down towards Sirius's groin like a pointer to his cock. He looked away from that quickly, but Sirius chuckled deep in his throat and drew Harry along with him to the armchair he'd sat in before. He crawled into it, the light brown of his skin, creamy where the sun had not marked it, standing out in stark contrast against the smooth black leather. The scent of it, subtle but feral, crept right into Harry's hapless prick.
Harry gasped when Sirius pulled him into his lap. The armchair was buttersoft against his heated skin and seemed to magically expand to accommodate them both. He ended up straddling Sirius, inhaling sharply as the flushed cock he hadn't been looking at rubbed against his own erection. Harry's knees and feet awkwardly locked around Sirius's thighs.
He groaned out loud when Sirius caught both their pricks in one palm, crushing them together until head brushed head and Harry nearly opened his mouth to beg for more of it, and more again until he came. His palms slid off the armrests, gravitating towards Sirius's shoulders to hold on to that glorious skin. Every inch of his flesh prickled with need; the fire in his cock and the fierce ache in his balls, which felt swollen to Quaffle size, were maddening.
Sirius's upper lip set into the most kissable curve Harry had ever seen. He released his hold on their pricks, and a wandless "Accio, bottle!" sent a small glass container hurtling through the air towards them. It slapped into Sirius's palm like an over-energetic Snitch. The top, shaped in the form of a coiled snake with tiny rubies for eyes, reared up to spit a glob of oil into Sirius's palm.
Sirius breathed in the fragrant scent, then grinned like a boy and swiped a long, oily smear up their still-aligned pricks. Harry almost screamed while Sirius exhaled, deeply and luxuriously. His long black eyelashes fluttered shut for a moment. The feel of Sirius's fingers rubbing viscous oil over his aching prick made Harry's balls contract, but Sirius caught the base of his cock just in time to press down around the enflamed flesh and catch the spurt of wet that had dribbled from the tip. He wiped it off with his index finger and stuck it into Harry's open mouth.
"Not yet," he admonished. "Wait till I tell you, will you?"
Harry had no choice with the grip around the base of his cock and Sirius's palm pressing down on his balls in a subtle warning. He gritted his teeth, sucked precome and oil off the fingers in his mouth, and squirmed restlessly on Sirius's lap.
"Cup your hands, Harry," Sirius murmured against Harry's collarbone, where his lips elicited a delicious shiver. Harry did, and the snake-bottle, its jewel eyes aglitter, spewed more oil into his hand.
He caught the spill and allowed Sirius's hand to guide him to Sirius's erection that was now poking up aggressively from a black thatch of hair. He slid his palm over Sirius's cock, longer than Lestrange's but without that gagging width. It curved arrogantly upwards in a way that was quintessentially Sirius. Harry stroked it carefully, his fingertips memorising the smooth shaft, the swell of the head. A groan rumbled in Sirius's chest as Harry rubbed his oily fingers over the length, pushed a little at the foreskin to help the head emerge further, then squeezed the crown lightly. Sirius's head dipped back in pleasure, and Harry surrendered to the lure of that marvellous skin and pressed his mouth to Sirius's shoulder, never stopping his ministrations until Sirius shoved him away from his groin with a breathless laugh.
"Enough, or you'll have me lose control before I'm inside you." Sirius hoisted him up higher until Harry was nearly curled around his upper body, and cupped one of his arse cheeks in a firm squeeze. "Put your arms around my neck."
Harry did, hiding his face in the inky cloud of Sirius's hair. He felt his legs being spread until his calves were pressed into the armrests. Sirius smeared more hand-warmed oil between his buttocks, and Harry muffled his voice against Sirius's neck, too scared to move his lead-filled limbs. The touch buzzed through his nervous system like an electric current. It was wrongness incarnate, but it made his cock jump.
He had to distract his mind with the scent of Sirius's hair and skin as Sirius's slick fingertip played over his hole: teasing and dipping in, slipping out and back inside, rotating deeper with more oil dripping over Harry's crack and balls. His godfather was gentle, infinitely so, and had they been alone instead of putting on a sick show for a bunch of Death Eaters, the careful attentions might have made Harry glow. Still, his arse heated to a mottled pink, and sweat was pooling in the creases of his thighs. Sirius's finger was deep inside him now, liberally spreading oil into him, and Harry could feel Sirius's cock, a wet, insistent heat against his belly. The finger inside him crooked ever so slightly, and a wild heat shot through Harry's body. He jerked and whimpered.
"Ready?" Sirius whispered, his voice raw.
Harry, who wasn't and could never remotely be ready, hissed, "I don't want this!" with real effort, although his body was prepared to undergo just about everything to get Sirius's hand back on his cock.
"I know, poor thing." Sirius licked a long wet stripe up Harry's neck and kissed his cheek. "But your body does, badly. Don't be afraid. I'll be gentle."
But you'll still do it, Harry thought bitterly, slowly coming out of the mire of obedience Snape's potion had dunked him into. He could think of fighting now, but this was Sirius. He said nothing more, just nodded weakly into Sirius's neck.
He found Sirius's hands on his hips and felt himself being lifted and spun around. When Sirius settled him back on his lap he was facing the room. For once, Harry was glad for his short-sightedness, which spared him details of the gleeful faces trained on him. He scrabbled for balance in order not to fall back onto Sirius's cock and heard Bellatrix shriek with laughter. "A Potter, and no doubt about it! Just look at those knobbly knees!"
"Shush," Sirius whispered as Harry stiffened in his arms, burying his spread knees into the gap where armrests and cushion seat met. "Close your eyes. There's no one here but us. No one else matters."
Harry squeezed his lids so tightly shut that his eyeballs felt bruised and allowed Sirius's hands to guide him slowly backward until he encountered the hot press of Sirius's erection against his arse.
"Relax." Sirius told him, mouth ghosting over the bumps of Harry's vertebrae. Harry tried, honestly tried, but this was nothing like the way he'd pictured his first time to be. And despite his ignorance about actual sex, he knew that this sort of thing hurt and he'd seen - and oiled - the fair-sized cock that was now seeking entrance. Most of all, he was aware of the pitiful smallness of his anus. His skin felt too small for his body somehow, alternating between cold sweat and panicked heat as Sirius's cock nestled between his buttocks. His finger trembled against the leather of the chair.
Then Sirius reached down to adjust himself and presence became pressure. It did hurt. The burn of never-before strained muscles increased in force until Harry feared something would tear inside him. But it was a pain that remained this side of bearable, singeing his nerve ends but not burning them to ashes. Sirius slid in gradually, supporting Harry's weight with one arm to make sure gravity would not impale him too deep, too fast. It was like sinking inch by inch into a too-hot bath, only that the burn flared inside him. The oil eased Sirius along as he inched forward with tiny pushes, filling Harry further and further until he thought he was going to burst. It felt as if Sirius was taking him over, slipping right into Harry's skin to inhabit it alongside him.
Finally Harry felt Sirius's thighs under his buttocks, and the small bumps of his balls in his crack. Sirius barely breathed beneath him, moving only to clasp his hand around Harry's prick which, marvellously, had hardly softened at all. Harry's breath hitched at the firm touch. He gave a tiny upward thrust that stole the air from his own and Sirius's lungs simultaneously.
The soft wool of a robe sleeve brushed his shoulder, and Harry's eyes flew open; he'd forgotten Lucius Malfoy's presence, and now recoiled against Sirius's chest when the man stepped up behind the armchair. But Malfoy ignored him. Instead, he picked the oil bottle from the coffee table and sniffed it delicately. "Mortar & Pestle's custom-made finest? You're generous, Sirius."
"I prefer my partners to enjoy themselves." Sirius's voice stumbled over the first syllable, then sounded as steady as if he wasn't buried to the balls inside Harry's arse, or digging white-knuckled fingers into the flesh of his hips.
"I always suspected there was something more to your excessive feud with James Potter." Malfoy's fingers played with the sweat-soaked tangles at the back of Sirius's head, which Harry watched from the corner of his eye with instant rage. "Such passionate hatred..."
"I wouldn't mind fucking Potter to put him in his place." Sirius shrugged nonchalantly. "But want him? No. If I could have any of the Marauders, I'd pick Lupin."
"Why am I not surprised?" Snape's voice, low and cold. "The werewolf who almost killed me."
"Merlin, Snape, will you get over it?" Sirius snapped. "I had no idea he was a werewolf when I paid you to find out what he was up to in the Shrieking Shack. And you had your revenge when he was expelled and his wand broken."
"Although I heard that He offered him protection and only insisted on his expulsion when the stupid wolf refused it," Rabastan said.
"I still fail to see what you'd want with the mangy beast." Bellatrix grimaced and nuzzled Rodolphus's neck. "Dumbledore must have been mad to admit him to Hogwarts. They even say he was Fenrir Greyback's get."
"Ah, still..." Rodolphus reclined further into the cushions to allow her mouth better access. "Black having dirty thoughts about waif-wolf Lupin? This I've got to hear."
"Oh, yes," Sirius murmured, holding out his hand to Malfoy. The man upended the bottle and it spat another stream of oil into Sirius's palm. Sirius shifted ever so slightly inside Harry, stimulating that spot until Harry threw his head back.
"You see, Rodolphus," Sirius murmured in a low, silky voice that drew every eye in the room, "I have this fantasy about picking up Lupin when he's prowling the shadier nooks of wizarding London in search for food, or work..."
A shameful noise escaped Harry's throat when Sirius wrapped his oil-dripping hand round his prick again, warm, slippery and terribly deft on the throbbing length. Lestrange's eyes were fixed on them; he was licking his lips unconsciously.
"I would invite Lupin home to Grimmauld Place, and have the house-elves prepare a sumptuous feast for him in the great dining room," Sirius continued in what Harry could only think of as a bedroom voice. The sound of it went right to his groin, further torturing his prick. "I would watch him eat, oh, well-mannered and trying to go slow, cutting his chicken legs with knife and fork rather than tearing the flesh off them as he'd like to. And then I'd push his plate away, and shove him flat on his back on the table amidst all the trays and dishes and smells." Sirius slid comfortably lower in his chair, shifting his angle again, and Harry clawed at the armrests when the heat exploded inside him. Sirius didn't seem to notice – he played with Harry's slippery cock and continued his tale.
"I'd peel the shabby clothes right off him and spread him open with hot butter or béchamel sauce, and he'd let me, because he's Gryffindor and would think he owes me. I'd fuck him face-up on the table until I'd have carved the shape of my cock into his arse." Harry's chest burned with indignation for Remus's sake, who did not deserve having such a picture painted of him, but Sirius's voice caressed his skin and the images didn't leave his head. "And afterwards I'd sent him on his way in new robes and with a bag of Galleons for his trouble, to think about what his beloved James Potter would say if he ever found out."
"Holy Merlin, Black!" Lestrange laughed in breathless admiration. "You really are one sick bastard!"
"Well, Rodolphus, you asked." Sirius smirked into the curve of Harry's neck. "And now, if you don't mind, I'd like to fuck my little morsel here."
Harry's face flamed until Sirius nipped at his shoulder and made him forget, face and neck suffusing with colour of a different nature.
Sirius didn't thrust into him, though. He rocked in a maddening slow rhythm, one hand on Harry's cock, the other holding Harry's hips steady so that he couldn't even fuck himself on the erection inside him.
With sick fascination, Harry watched his cock being massaged in Sirius's hand, glistening with oil and so dark that even looking at it hurt. The head was fully emerged and stretched the foreskin painfully wide. The dribble of precome from the gaping slit, teased and tugged at by Sirius's thumbnail, had almost stopped and left the slit stand out as an inflamed, gaping dent.
The glans poked up from a perfect circle of thumb and index finger like a blind, slimy worm being prodded and forced out of its hidey-hole. Harry stared at it, ache thrumming in every nerve. His spine was bowed with need; a bit further, and he might be able to lick the rigid, swollen organ. He'd never wanted to come this badly in his life, but Sirius's 'Wait till I tell you' kept him on the edge, powerless to force his release.
Harry hardly felt it when Sirius came, the need in his balls and prick overriding every other sensation; there was a soft groan, and Sirius's hand tightened around him. Harry cried out in real pain and the death grip loosened until all that remained were feather-light fingertips whose touch hurt almost as much for want of pressure.
Sirius remained firmly sheathed inside him, dropping kisses up the side of Harry's neck in consolation before speeding up his oily slides and squeezes on Harry's prick, rubbing until Harry's eyes were burning with unshed tears of frustration. He was babbling "Please!" and "Sirius!" and "Ohgod let me come!" in random combinations, hardly aware he was doing it at all. How could Sirius be so bloody cruel!
Sirius gave his prick a few more gratuitous tugs before murmuring, "Now, Harry!"
Orgasm exploded out of Harry and ripped a shrill scream from his lungs. Come splattered over his chin and chest in surprising quantities. His cock jerked several times to rid itself of seed, pushing out a final glob of come that dribbled down his thigh in one last bone-crushing contraction. Tears poured down Harry's cheeks as he lay in Sirius's arms like a tattered rag.
Sirius stroked his head and face during the shocks, murmuring endearments Harry failed to comprehend. When Harry's limbs had stopped trembling, Sirius lifted him off his lap and slipped his cock free. More mess dripped down Harry's inner thighs, and he was lucky that Sirius didn't let go of him because he wobbled on his feet, too overcome to stand unaided. Summoning his wand, Sirius cast a cleaning charm over them both, as if Harry would be able to forget the stains just because the physical evidence was gone. Harry winced as the magic rushed over the tormented flesh of his prick.
Then Sirius kissed him fully on the mouth, so softly that it barely stung Harry's bitten lips. "Thank you, Harry Potter."
Harry's first, undiluted reaction was rage. Sirius had used his potion-addled state to torment him in front of his crowd, worse even than his Sirius had done with Snape in the Pensieve. He pulled free from Sirius's hand and clung to the armrest of the chair instead.
"A very stimulating display indeed," Lucius Malfoy commented, clapping his hands once in a supremely exaggerated gesture. He stood behind Sirius's seated form, close enough for Harry to see his expression. It wasn't friendly. Not at all.
"Indeed," Sirius replied with a smug undertone that Harry wanted to punch off his face. "I'll have to thank Professor Riddle for sending such a delicious gift to excuse his absence."
"Voldemort?" Harry yelled, although his inner voice told him 'who else, you dolt' with an audible sneer.
Snape and Regulus rolled their eyes in unison, and Lucius rapped him on the head with his knuckles.
"There is no need to warm up that silly old childhood nickname, boy!"
"Childhood nickname?" Harry felt as if the world had dropped out from under his feet and was now spinning merrily beside him.
"It might have been entertaining for some time after Dumbledore touted young Tom's schoolboy arrogance all over the place along with the fact that the Heir of Slytherin was of half-blood descent, but it's very old news now." Malfoy sneered. "But yes, indeed, we are talking about Tom Marvolo Riddle, Deputy Headmaster, Defence against the Dark Arts Professor and Head of Slytherin House at Hogwarts. Heir of Slytherin, Professor at nineteen, renowned for his ground-breaking research on Truth Spells. Defeated the Hogwarts Basilisk and single-handedly took out Fenrir Greyback and his gang of werewolves. I'd hand you the Chocolate Frog card, but I haven't got one on me right now."
"You could try and be a bit more respectful about the Professor, Lucius," Bellatrix snapped, but Harry didn't listen any more. Everything was falling into place now – Sirius in Slytherin making nice with all the junior Death Eaters, Sirius’s dead parents, Tom Riddle teaching the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. The Time Spinner had been malfunctioning after all. This wasn't his, Harry's past – it was some spin-off place the damaged artefact had dropped him in by accident!
"It's not me who's being disrespectful, Bella," Lucius replied coolly. "There are more fitting candidates in this room, especially this insolent boy. Now," Malfoy picked up a champagne flute from the table and raised it to his lips, "shall we punish the foolish little slut?"
"We really should," Rabastan chimed in. "Besides, he walked into an assembly of Slytherin's Chosen, and should have to prove himself like one in exchange for freedom."
Prove himself? Harry nearly choked on his tongue with rage. He had done enough already to amuse the sick bastards!
Malfoy smirked at Sirius in what could only be described as a challenge. "Let him play for his freedom like a Slytherin. If he fails, Sirius will have a new and only slightly damaged magical artefact for his collection, and one of us a trainable little delicacy for entertainment."
Lestrange snorted. "Well, outside Sirius's hands he certainly has no skills to speak of. Though there are some wizarding... establishments in Knockturn Alley which would be glad to take him in for training. A time-travelling half-blood, related to the Potters? Harold and James have made their share of enemies among the pureblood crowd who would find such a prospect highly appealing." Harry's stomach nearly heaved at the thought.
"Unless, of course," Malfoy threw in silkily, "our friend Sirius decides to take up Professor Riddle's kind offer. Slytherin's Chosen will forgive much to please one of their own."
When he spoke at last, Sirius's voice had an undertone of weariness. "If you want him, Lucius, why not just say so?"
"Oh, it's not so much that I want him. I'm merely curious about a child who manages to affect ruthless, self-centred Sirius Black this much."
Bellatrix's voice cut through the exchange. "Well, I for one am not going to watch you two-time my pregnant sister, Lucius!"
Unruffled, Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her. "How narrow-mindedly Muggle of you, Bella."
Her eyes narrowed, fingers inching towards the pocket that had to hold her wand. Lucius blithely ignored the danger and poked a finger against Harry's chest.
"This boy is well beyond any protection a pureblood youth could lay claim to. Hardly something a witch of true breeding like my wife would take offence at. Besides..." He smirked, and Rodolphus caught Bellatrix's hand rather quickly to prevent disaster. "...Cissa and I do not begrudge each other a bit of diversion."
"Well, I will take my husband upstairs and give him something better to do than watch and lust after schoolboys," Bellatrix announced, slipping off the sofa and tugging Rodolphus after her.
"Ah, Bella," Rabastan sighed exaggeratedly. "None of us would lust after schoolboys if we had managed to snare you!" His gaze flickered towards Malfoy. "Well, hardly any of us."
Sirius hid a lopsided grin from Malfoy's eye and nodded at the couple. "You know your way to the upstairs bedrooms." He locked eyes with his cousin, none of them colouring the slightest. "Have fun."
"Let's leave the poor little lamb to the wolves." Bellatrix paused on her way to the door to pat Harry's cheek, and he flinched away from the blood-red nails with a hiss.
"Ah, one of those who'll only respond to a man's touch..." She clucked her tongue. "Well, Lucius will give you that and a lot more besides." She proudly sashayed to the door, red skirts swirling around her ankles, her consort in tow.
"And Lucius is famous for his skill at the game, isn't he, Black?" Snape pointed out malevolently after the padded door had fallen shut behind them.
Malfoy bowed to him, braid falling over his shoulder. "Ah, the game..." He turned a malicious gaze on Harry, and Harry wondered if the man disliked something he saw in him, or if he only served as a stick to beat Sirius with.
"Quite a common entertainment in Slytherin house," Malfoy explained. "The rules are simple: you get two vetoes – if you can't handle something I do, say so and I'll switch to something else. If you beg a third time, you lose and become ours." He leered at Harry. "Do you want to play, Potter?"
"No," Harry said coldly, with as much pride as he had left, naked and after everybody had seen him beg and come. "But I will." Then a flash of inspiration hit and the words tumbled out of his mouth before he had time to second-guess them. "I'll play you, Malfoy. But since this is a Slytherin thing, and I'm not a Slytherin, I want an extra favour apart from walking out with my Time Spinner."
Malfoy cocked his head expectantly while Sirius propped his chin onto his hand and studied Harry with watchful eyes. Even Snape, Rabastan and Regulus seemed to lean forward in their seats.
"Go on," Malfoy said, studying his perfectly manicured fingernails.
"Every time I don't beg out of whatever you're doing, I want a question answered."
"Questions again?" Malfoy asked. "Oh well. Granted unless I think it's sensitive information. Does that satisfy you, young Potter?"
Harry's face set into a humourless grimace. "Not really, no. But it'll do."
"Very well," Malfoy purred. He took Harry's arm and led him, still naked, into the middle of the room, then took a step back and left him to stand there on cold bare feet.
"Lift your arms, and cross them over your head."
Harry glared, but obeyed. He could feel the pulse hammering in his wrists as he put them together, feeling utterly silly. Malfoy waved his wand and a length of rope sprouted from the ceiling, wrapping itself several times around Harry's wrists before pulling taut. He could still comfortably stand without having to balance on tiptoe, but the pose strained his shoulder muscles and if he let his arms sag, the rope cut into his flesh.
He took deep breaths to calm himself. Struggling and panicking would make him look even more stupid, and it would be futile. He could see that much in Malfoy's predatory face.
The bastard circled him slowly, studying Harry's goose-fleshed body from all angles before giving one of his buttocks an ungentle squeeze. Harry bit his tongue to stop himself from calling him all sorts of well-deserved names.
"Yes, this will do nicely. But first... Veritamar!"
Harry felt the spell settling over his chest, a slight but noticeable pressure. "What-?" he croaked.
"Don't play innocent, boy," Malfoy sneered in his ear, causing Harry to turn his head away. "You know what the spell does."
"I've never heard it before!" Harry protested.
"I don't believe it," Harry heard Regulus mutter. "A wand that powerful, and not a shred of education to go with it."
"Ah, but if he's from a different timeline than ours, he might really not know." At this point Snape's voice became downright smug. "After all, it was Professor Riddle who invented Veritamar."
"Well, real or pretence, that ignorance can be remedied," Malfoy drawled. "Unlike truth potions, Potter, the spell will not compel you to tell the truth. If you lie, however..." He touched Harry's chest where the pressure was strongest, "it will stop your heart. Just like that."
The touch turned intimate, whispering over the curve of Harry's ribs, catching at his right nipple. "An escape of sorts." Malfoy was so close that his robes rubbed against Harry's naked back and his body moulded against Harry's buttocks. "But I don't think you want to escape that way, do you? I think you're a survivor, Potter."
If he weren't all nervous gooseflesh, Harry might have found that funny.
"So tell us, boy – did Albus Dumbledore send you to spy on us?"
Harry tried to ignore Malfoy's proximity. "No." The Headmaster was dead, after all.
Malfoy turned to the table Snape and Regulus were sitting at, his silver-trimmed cloak swirling around his ankles. "Does that calm your fears, Severus?"
Snape scowled, but didn't respond. Instead, Sirius spoke up. "Has Tom Riddle brought you here?"
"No!" Harry yelled, outraged at the very thought.
Sirius scrutinised him for a moment, then nodded imperceptibly. "No curses or hexes," he told Malfoy, and a green ray from his own wand took the truth spell's weight off Harry's chest.
"Well, we're not training him for initiation into the Chosen," Malfoy replied. "I'll be happy to take my cue from the theme of the evening: the erotic arts – in the widest sense."
Malfoy flicked his wand at Harry again, and a broad strip of black cloth flew at Harry's face, wrapping itself around his head and obscuring his vision. Thrown into sudden darkness, Harry's body stiffened. He tugged at his bonds, then forced himself to stop. There would be worse to come; Malfoy wanted him helpless and rattled, and panicking over a blindfold would only play into his hands.
Harry perked his ears, trying to make out Malfoy's position. Cloth rustled beside him, and a fingertip touched the strained muscle of his upper arm, tracing it up to the armpit before running over the sparse hair growing there. It bloody tickled. Harry tried to twist out of the way, but to no avail. Not allowing him escape, Malfoy tugged at the hairs until Harry bit his tongue in order not to yelp. Somehow, not being able to see or anticipate where Malfoy might be moving next magnified even small discomforts.
"My question!" he protested, more to distract Malfoy's attention from his armpits than from real curiosity.
Malfoy just laughed. "You don't consider putting on bonds and a blindfold as praiseworthy achievements, I hope?"
The bastard kept circling him, fingers unerringly finding the most ticklish spots at his ribs. It took quite some effort not to squirm. Sweat broke out over Harry's body, and he was dying to scratch himself raw.
There was a moment's pause as if Malfoy was devising a new evil. Recalling the man's derisive laugh, Harry kept his mouth firmly shut. This wasn't too bad yet. Still he squeaked when he felt all five of Malfoy's fingernails digging into his left buttock, drawing long, parallel scratches from the top of his thigh up the fleshy cheek. It didn't hurt precisely, but created a cold sort of burn that jumbled Harry's nerves. Malfoy scraped over Harry's other buttock, his upper thighs and finally over his itching sides where it was more bliss than ache despite the welts the nails had to leave behind.
And then Malfoy's hand detoured without warning, closing around Harry's dormant prick with hardly less force than Sirius had in his moment of ecstasy. It bloody hurt, rough and possessive and Harry had a 'No!' of protest on his tongue before he realised that Malfoy would construe that as a veto. Uncomfortable as the grip was – not to mention embarrassing – Harry could bear it.
"Shall we see whether there's still a bit of Severus's potion running through your system?" Malfoy asked, tugging at the helpless prick with no care whatsoever. To Harry's ultimate humiliation, the persistent stimulation made his groin twitch. His prick was filling, not a lot, but enough to be noticeable.
"It looks that way, doesn't it?" Malfoy commented, the heartless fuck! "Well, either that or you're a whore at heart, Potter."
He dropped Harry's prick like a cold potato after proving his point, and Harry felt the tip of a wand touch the base of his throat. "Let's see what else gets a reaction, shall we? Obstringo!"
A hard leather something came into being around Harry's neck, rough against the sensitive skin of his throat. It felt like a broad collar, reaching from below his chin to his collarbone. Sweat pooled at Harry's neck and his eyes went wide under the blindfold when Malfoy's wand tapped the thing. It tightened from loose to snug with a hint of constriction.
"No!" Horrible memories of Lestrange choking him with his prick while the enchanted cord bit into his windpipe filled Harry's head. The invisible bruises still ached on the inside of his throat.
"Are you begging?" Malfoy asked silkily.
Harry craned his head, trying to tell himself that he could handle this; Malfoy wouldn't kill him. But a wave of horror crested over his brain, and the collar seemed to pulse against his Adam's apple, tightening further...
"Please!" Harry wheezed, arching his neck against the grip of the collar. "Take it off!"
Another tap of the wand and the monstrosity's hold loosened. Harry expelled a shaky breath of relief when Malfoy pulled it off him. He touched the base of Harry's throat and stroked it lightly.
"Well, boy; that leaves you with only one opt out." There was no way of overhearing the smugness in Malfoy's tone, and Harry swore to himself that he wouldn't give the bastard that satisfaction again, no matter what he did. There would be no surrender to fear from now on!
"Now, Potter, how about something different?" Malfoy continued. "You heard Sirius regale us with his intriguing fantasy about Lupin, didn't you? Or were you too preoccupied?" Harry scowled. "Now, tell us whom you desire."
Heat climbed into Harry's cheeks, and he hoped the broad fabric of the blindfold would hide some of it. The bastard had to be kidding! There was no way he'd air out his most private thoughts in the shameless way Sirius had. Not to mention that he had no idea what to say. Images of Ginny's freckled skin and Fleur's memorable chest appeared in front of his inner eye, followed out of the blue by a flash to Sirius's naked chest. In a burst of rage, Harry stiffened his neck and glared in the direction Malfoy had to be standing.
"How about you on your knees sucking me off?" he growled. It wasn't an utter lie, but driven by vengeance rather than by a desire to come into contact with any part of Malfoy's anatomy. Still he was glad the truth spell was no longer on him.
He heard more than one of the onlookers chuckle, and then Rabastan's amused, "Nicely played, Potter."
Malfoy's own soft laugh ghosted over his chest and dread scuttled through Harry's nerves. Malfoy caught hold of his left nipple and squeezed it none too gently. "Nicely played indeed," he murmured. "Yes, I think I will do that. Although you might come to regret it."
Harry gulped as Malfoy's hand slid over his chest; cloth rustled again when Malfoy knelt, fingers coming to rest on Harry's hip. Harry could almost see the man arranging his robes to pool around him in neat folds. His skin crawled. He'd expected Malfoy to slap him for that line, not to act on it!
Malfoy's other hand wrapped around his prick and lifted it up. Cool lips caressed the head, warming around his flesh. The first brush of tongue made Harry groan, his cock going from bruised and shy to rapidly swelling. It was still sensitive, but Malfoy lapped at it so carefully, sucked the tip so gently that the discomfort faded almost at once. Tiny sucks coaxed the head out of its foreskin, seeking attention as if it hadn't had way too much of that at Sirius's hands just half an hour ago.
It took an embarrassingly short time until Harry was fully hard, his prick straining lustily into the cavern of Malfoy's mouth and sliming his tongue with precome.
Malfoy snaked his index finger backwards to stroke Harry's scrotum, tickling the soft fuzz of hair there and playing with the plumping balls until they constricted in their loose skin covering.
When Malfoy swallowed around his prick, lips stretched so far they almost closed around the base, Harry made an inarticulate "Nng!" noise, glad for the blindfold because if he'd had to watch, he'd either have died of mortification or come minutes ago. Just how had his legs ended up spread and his hips jutting forward to maximise contact with Malfoy's mouth? Heat pooled in Harry's balls, fired up by the delicate scrape of Malfoy's teeth along the side of his erection.
He squeezed his eyes shut, neck prickling, and invited orgasm to strike when Malfoy slid his lips off his over-heated cock and, with a raspy voice, muttered "Obstringo!" again.
Breath rattled in Harry's lungs as he gulped for air, but this time the pressure did not form around his neck. Instead, something invisible tightened around the base of his cock like congealing air, biting down on the engorged flesh until any thought of coming had been chased out of Harry's head. The interrupted blood flow hurt even as it left him painfully hard and panting.
"Bloody fucker!" he cursed the invisible presence that was Malfoy.
"Now, now, boy, show some patience," the bastard commented. "There will be plenty of time for that later."
Only the thought that Malfoy had to have the taste of Harry in his mouth right down to his tonsils consoled Harry enough not to scream abuse when Malfoy gave his swollen prick a squeeze. It seemed impossible for it to get any harder than it already was with the constriction around it, but it did. Harry heard the leather of Malfoy's boots creak as he rose to his feet. Malfoy put a finger that smelled distinctly of Harry over Harry's snarling mouth.
"I'll take your mind off things," he promised, voice smoky and superior although all his associates had just seen him on his knees sucking a half-blood's prick. Shame seemed to be an unknown concept to these Slytherins.
Harry could hear Malfoy casting "Accio!" once more. Someone sucked in an audible breath, and Rabastan Lestrange murmured, "Oh, nice!" followed by Malfoy's lazy drawl.
"How about a little bet, Sirius? Will he succumb to this?"
There was a pause, as if Sirius was pondering the question. "I doubt it, Lucius," he replied at last. "Underneath his pliant appearance, I think he's quite a fighter."
Oh, thanks so bloody much for the vote of confidence and no help! Harry raged inwardly. And he wasn't pliant! He'd thought he couldn't hate Sirius any more than he already did for dying, but now... he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to separate the memory of his godfather from this.
"You owe me an answer!" he rasped, hoping to postpone whatever Malfoy had in mind now.
"For pleasuring you?" Malfoy asked, irony dripping like runny custard from a hot apple tart.
"Like hell you did!" Harry muttered, cheeks very warm again. "Vol- Tom Riddle. How did he become a Hogwarts teacher?" That was the part he still couldn't buy – he'd seen Dumbledore reject Riddle with his own eyes in the Pensieve.
"Why, Albus Dumbledore hired him only a year after he'd left school," Malfoy replied. "It created quite a stir, especially after the old codger himself leaked his heritage to the Daily Prophet. Those who didn't object to Riddle's youth protested him being a Parselmouth and Slytherin's heir, and those who saw no offence in that objected to his Muggle blood. When Sirius's parents were still alive, they considered him a 'filthy half-blood'." He snorted delicately. "Of course Dumbledore wanted to keep an eye on him because he'd always feared his powers, but a few months later Riddle located and destroyed the Hogwarts' Basilisk and became an instant hero in the eyes of the magical community."
"But..." Harry sputtered, trying to ignore the way his prick and balls throbbed. "Riddle hates Muggles. Dumbledore would never-"
"He doesn't hate Muggles!" Regulus Black's voice was shrill and angry. "He just hates the way the Ministry enslaves wizardkind in the name of 'Muggle protection'. His own father was a Muggle, after all."
"And that doesn't bother you?" Harry asked, incredulous.
"No!" Regulus exclaimed, a bit too forcefully. "He wants us to be free to develop our potential no matter what background. Even Severus here is a half-blood. All that matters is a wizard's power."
"Why, boy, it sounds as if the dear Professor's background troubles you." Malfoy stepped up behind Harry and ran cool fingers over his bottom. "A little traditionalist, are you? And here I thought the Potters were so liberal – after all, old Harold allowed his only heir to marry a Mudblood."
"Muggleborn!" Harry hissed. The bastard was talking about his mother.
"What a contradictory little creature you are," Malfoy murmured, hand still cupping Harry's buttock. "But I think you've had your question answered." He let go and took a step back. "Now let's see how much of a fighter you are – brace yourself."