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kennahijjaStill not back to life, but more fic :).
Title: Fishing Expedition
Author: Hijja
Pairing: Harry/Lucius
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): underage (Harry is fifteen); AU (Harry in Slytherin), spanking, a slight touch of humiliation perhaps
Summary: "Does this excite you, Potter?" a hot voice hissed against the nape of Harry's neck. "Naked in an unlocked room, like a two-Knut whore waiting for a patron?"
Note: A month late for Bring-Back-the-Porn-Day and second in the 'Fuck you, LJ!' series :). Set in the Slytherin Lovers Harry-in-Slytherin AU, but can be read perfectly independent of it. Most humble thanks for the beta to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
melusinahp and viverra_libro.
It was just the cold that was making him shiver, Harry told himself as he waited, his face turned away from the door and towards the window and the bed which took up half of the generous room. Despite their steep prices and posh atmosphere, they didn't stoke the fire properly at the Warlock & Wizard Guesthouse in Hogsmeade, not enough to stave off the chill of a rainy July evening in Scotland.
It was quite a fancy place; Blaise Zabini met his mother here on Hogsmeade weekends, and had invited Harry along to dinner once. Discreet, and perfect for the guest Harry had invited. If he came at all...
As if prompted by his thoughts, the door opened, and closed again. Harry didn't turn. Footsteps sounded behind him, tapping on the tiles, then muffled by the rug around the bed. Harry's toes curled when they stopped behind him. He felt fingertips brushing his shoulders, soft as butterflies, then descending to trace his vertebrae, stroking down his sides.
"Does this excite you, Potter?" a hot voice hissed against the nape of Harry's neck. "Naked in an unlocked room, like a two-Knut whore waiting for a patron?"
The thought that anybody could have stepped through the door to find him standing there naked and waiting, and could have taken advantage of the opportunity, had its very own spiked thrill. Harry shivered, and said nothing. Even the anxiety-riddled minutes before the start of the Triwizard Tasks a few short months ago had not tightened his stomach into the hard ball of nerves it was right now.
"Say my name!" the low voice demanded.
Harry swallowed and moistened his dry lips. "Lucius."
"Indeed, Potter. Just as your intriguing little invitation specified. Although I confess I hadn't expected to find this."
If Harry wasn't so shaky and exposed, he might have felt smug. He'd wanted to grab Lucius Malfoy's attention – it looked as if he'd succeeded.
Malfoy's hand skimmed up Harry's spine, then grabbed the back of his neck as if trying to snap it. "What makes you believe I won't drag you off to my newly risen Lord right now, Potter? In fact, I could fuck you until you're too weak to stand and then drag you off to my lord."
Harry forced himself to go limp in Malfoy's grip to reduce the strain on his neck. "You missed me on purpose, last month in the Riddle graveyard," he said, then clarified, "No, you didn't just miss me – you all but took out two Death Eaters with that misfiring spell of yours."
"You're going to stake your useless little life on the coincidence of a misfired spell? I would have thought four years in Slytherin would have cured you of such foolishness."
Doubts had crossed Harry's mind, of course. Had the misfired spell been a true mistake, no matter how unlikely, or a moment's softness, regretted afterwards? Lucius Malfoy wasn't a man who would act on a soft spot for Draco's friend, however, least of all if it incurred him the wrath of his Master.
"You don't miss." Harry's mouth was dry, but his voice sounded clear. "I saw you duelling Draco's wandmaster during the Christmas holidays in second year." It had been such a quintessentially Malfoy thing to do, hiring a famous duellist to give Draco a head start for Lockhart's Duelling Club. Not that Harry hadn't beaten him anyway. "If you fought like that for show, you wouldn’t miss in a real battle."
The night in the Riddle graveyard had been a sequence of nightmares, from the moment Harry had grabbed the Triwizard Cup an inch from Cedric Diggory's fingers just to be whisked away right in front of his rival's shocked eyes, to his return, bruised, bleeding and shielded by his parents' ghosts.
He had recognised Lucius' trademark hair in the ring of Death Eaters that night. And later, after his own mock duel with the Dark Lord, he'd seen Lucius firing off a Stunning Spell that whizzed over Harry's head, then ricocheted off a gravestone to incapacitate one of Harry pursuers and mess up the aim of another's Cruciatus.
"Ah, Potter, I am flattered. A pretty young boy, so ardently defending my wandwork..." Lucius' free hand slid over Harry's thigh, then cupped his arse cheek. Harry gasped and clutched the latticework at the foot of the bed. "And you've invited me to partake of that pretty little arse to pay your perceived debts?" Yes, there was that – if anything, Slytherin had taught Harry to settle high-stake debts proactively before those he owed could come back for higher. "What makes you think I'm interested?"
'You fondling me', was on the tip of Harry's tongue, but diplomacy won out. "I saw you looking at me during the World Cup." Not just looking – Lucius had been indulging him, too. Never one to play down his influence, he'd gone to some length to arrange for Draco and Harry to meet the world-famous Irish Chaser formation at the post-victory celebration. He hadn't touched Harry inappropriately, or made a pass, but there had been more than a touch of courtship in the way he'd treated his son's friend and guest. It had excited Harry then, and it made his heart pound now.
Malfoy pushed him forward until Harry had to grab the footboard of the bed to stop himself from pitching face-first into the mattress. The footboard was an ornate piece – a unicorn drinking from a pool, polished and carved from black mahogany. The headboard counterpart depicted a centaur looking up at the stars. Lucius gave Harry’s arse cheek another squeeze, then delved roughly into his crack. The tip of his finger slid forward easily, probing a little. Harry let out a whining noise as his cock jumped and pushed up against polished wood.
Malfoy laughed, throaty and so... dirty that Harry's entire back erupted in gooseflesh. "You've come prepared?"
"Of course," Harry ground out.
"What an unusual young man you are, Harry Potter." Lucius chuckled and rotated his fingertip a little deeper. "Well, tell me, then – have you done this before?"
"Not- not this," Harry admitted, breathless while his inner walls clenched around Lucius' finger.
"A virgin?" Malfoy downright purred, and Harry felt as if the skin of his neck was taking up the vibrations and trembled along with them. He bit his lip. Somehow, he didn't think Lucius wanted – or needed - to know that most of Harry's experience had been acquired with Draco.
The man withdrew his finger, and slyly reached around to grab Harry's prick. Harry keened and bucked, stunned speechless by the sudden onslaught of pleasure, then whimpered when Lucius pulled his hand away as quickly.
"Well, it seems as if you won't find your task too hard to perform, little one..." Harry's groin and insides twisted into a bolt of need. He pressed back to rub himself against Malfoy's front. There was something almost unbearably erotic about rubbing naked skin against a fully clothed body. Malfoy's robes had rough brocade stitching on the outside, which inflamed Harry's tender buttocks. He twisted a bit for more friction, and finally gabbled, "Please, Lucius!"
Arms in wide brocade sleeves wrapped around Harry's upper body to embrace him from behind. The fabric scraped over Harry's nipples, and he almost screamed. "Please what, little Harry?"
"Please fuck me already!" Harry hissed, hating himself for how desperate he sounded.
"Ah, don't mind if I do, Harry," Lucius whispered.
The man moved back a little, and Harry heard cloth rustle. He grabbed the footboard tighter.
Then Lucius was back, hands on Harry's hips and kicking his feet apart. Obediently, Harry spread his legs, panic, excitement and want warring inside him. Lucius put a heavy hand on his back, pushing him further down until he was all but folded over the carved frame, his prick pressed uncomfortably against the wood and his cheek resting on the duvet.
Lucius leaned over Harry's back and upturned arse, and for a second, with doxies somersaulting in his stomach, Harry thought that he would lick him there. However, the man just sniffed and gave his slickened hole another prod.
"You seem prepared well enough," he commented, and Harry flushed hotly. He'd filched the potion from Draco's generous stores, and suddenly had a very good idea where Draco had got it from. "Still ready for this, little Potter?"
Harry nodded once, a jerky movement of his bowed head, and Lucius' cock poked his entrance without any more ado. Only his quick intake of breath before Malfoy breached him prevented Harry from crying out at the sudden pain. The potion let Lucius slip forward with barely any resistance, but did nothing to minimise the intrusion, or decrease the speed with which Malfoy shoved himself into him.
"Is this what you wanted?" Malfoy whispered against his cheek when he was sheathed to the hilt, and through the raging fire in his arse Harry could feel the weight of the man's balls nudging against him.
Even if Harry had enough air in his lungs and wasn't gnawing his bottom lip to stifle his cries, he couldn't have answered that. Bitter heat burned in his eyes, and he buried his face in the duvet.
"Well, never mind," Lucius commented. "It is certainly as good as I'd thought."
He shifted, sending Harry's nerve ends flaring. Harry hadn't turned to see what Malfoy's cock looked like, but now it felt as huge as a Beater's bat stuffed into him.
Fingers digging hard into the tender joint where Harry's hip met thigh, Lucius gave a few experimental slides as if to test speed and leverage. Each of them elicited a flinch from Harry's overstretched body. Harry felt sweat beading on the thin skin above his spine, and the muscles in his calves knotted with tension.
Then a sharp forward jab scraped the inside of his channel and threw Harry against the bed. He howled, then bit his lip until he tasted blood, certain that Malfoy had somehow split his intestines. Weakly, he tried to struggle, but merciless hands held him in place as Malfoy slid out a bit, then back inside him again, fuelled by the lubrication potion that seemed to make what was agony to Harry the most easy thing in the world for Malfoy.
Harry sniffled once, then angrily berated himself. It hurt, yes, but he'd suffered the Cruciatus Curse without tearing up afterwards. If he could just weather the onslaught, Malfoy would have to finish sooner or later. There was no reason for his skin to go clammy all over, for the dizzy spots in front of his eyes, or for the infernal tears that threatened to spill. He wanted Malfoy to die on the spot, but at the same time craved for the man to wrap his arms around him again, and stroke away the pain and confusion.
Instead of wilting, Harry's prick seemed to react as wrongly as his mind. It pushed against the wood, rubbing against the carved spiral horn of the unicorn in time with Malfoy's thrusts. It felt hot and sluggish and at first Harry wondered whether the tight heat in his balls was just the echo of Lucius' wedged in just behind.
Head spinning, Harry unclasped his left hand from the foot of the bed and sneaked down to touch his aching prick. In mid-move, Lucius caught him and slapped his fingers away.
"This is about my satisfaction, not yours, boy," he hissed into Harry's ear, and Harry felt soft hair against his cheek. With tears of frustration in his eyes, he nodded and miserably returned his hand to the footboard. "Better!" Lucius murmured and followed the mock praise with another thrust that rocked Harry onto his toes and all but squashed his prick. Mortified, Harry felt the head smear a few drops of sticky precome against the valuable wood.
He let himself go limp in Malfoy's grip and allowed the man to rock him at will, taking his pleasure. The rhythmic slides made the intrusion less painful, or perhaps the potion had finally kicked in after Harry had lived through the initial shock. At the same time, the way Lucius' movements pressed Harry's prick against the carving made it very hard not to come. Harry bit his tongue, trying to focus on the pain. He had no idea what Lucius would do if he spilled himself when his pleasure was obviously not wanted, but he didn't want to find out.
A deep, satisfied exhale was all that announced that Malfoy's release was imminent, and then Harry felt sticky warmth erupting inside him, squishy but pleasant on the maltreated walls of his arse. The man stayed buried inside him for a long moment, chin resting on Harry's shoulder as if to savour the experience.
Then he pulled out, carefully enough but still making Harry's arse clench at the stabbing pain. A sticky mess dripped from Harry's hole. He cringed, but Malfoy seemed oblivious to his discomfort. The words of a cleaning charm sounded behind Harry's back, followed by a whiff of wintergreen, but the courtesy was not extended to him.
"Would you like to lie down?" Lucius asked solicitously when Harry tottered on wobbly feet. Removed from the footboard, his prick strained up to his stomach in an ugly red.
"Yes, please," Harry whispered, dreading any pressure on his arse but too winded to stay upright.
"Well, that's too bad," Lucius commented, unfazed. "Since you came to me and practically begged for this, you can just as well get through it on your feet." Harry's mouth thinned in exasperation, but Lucius was right. Discomfort wouldn't sway him. "Still sure I won't cart you off to the Dark Lord now that I've sampled your doubtful charms?" Lucius asked.
"It didn't take you much doubting time to get hard for it," Harry shot back, the pressure in his balls still prominently on his mind. It was all he could do not to yell at the backhanded slap that cracked across his arse cheek. Pain shot up his insides, reminding him of just how raw Malfoy's cruel fucking had left him.
Struggling for composure, he clenched his fingers around the wood of the footboard as if to scratch at the unicorn's carved head. Leaning over the end of a bed with a raw arse and come dripping down his inner thigh was definitely his least favourite position in which to start negotiations. He hadn't quite imagined this when he sent Hedwig to Lucius with the invitation.
"I don't think you're going to drag me off to Voldemort," he began slowly, "because I think you like what you have... The ear of the Minister, influence with the Wizengamot, still being on the Board of Governors of Hogwarts..."
He gave 'still' its proper emphasis to remind Malfoy that the debts were not entirely one-sided. If Harry had told Dumbledore that Lucius had planted the Riddle Diary on Ginny Weasley, he'd have been booted off that body for sure. Harry had been sorely tempted after having fallen for Riddle like the worst idiot, and nearly being chewed to bits by the basilisk. The little Weaslette could have died. But there was Draco to consider. Harry's rivalry-ridden friendship with Lucius’s son had survived its share of mad adventures. It had survived the fact that Harry was the better flyer and duellist, and later on their first awkward sexual experimentations. Harry had known, however, that it would not survive publicly accusing Draco's adored 'Father'. For a moment, Harry wondered whether betraying or seducing Lucius would count against him worse in Draco's book.
Before Lucius could comment, he rushed on. "And now there’s Draco. I can see why being a Death Eater might have been all fun and games fifteen years ago, but Voldemort is totally mad now, and doesn't give a toss about who he uses or what happens to them. I can't see you wanting that, either for Draco or Mrs Malfoy."
Another slap, and this time it wrung a yelp from him while Harry's entire body rocked. "Don't say the Dark Lord's name!"
Harry's forehead crinkled in exasperation. "Why not?" he challenged. "Fear of the thing-"
"The Dark Lord has the power to trace those who speak his name, and only his enemies would. Or at least he had the power, when he was at full strength."
Harry fell silent, his mouth open. "I didn't know that," he whispered at last.
"Few do." Lucius snorted softly. "The wizarding public has the right instinct for once, in calling him Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
He paused for a moment, rubbing himself absently against Harry's arse as if that would help him think. "I find your... theories about me quite interesting," he mused at last. "Misguided, but interesting. I think, however, that I've not been... compensated sufficiently so far. And you, dear Harry..." Without warning, Lucius' fingers closed around Harry's aching prick and Harry cried out. A whitish smear trickled over the man's palm, and even watching his angry, swollen organ in Malfoy's hand hurt.
The bastard chuckled, let go of Harry's prick and grabbed his wand to summon an ornamental rosette from the bed curtains. Another wand flick, and it unfurled into a red ribbon. With an evil smirk, Malfoy tied it around the middle of Harry's aching prick in a pretty bow.
The ribbon scratched Harry's inflamed flesh, but it was the look of it – deep scarlet against angry, mottled red – that made Harry's knees threaten to give out. He could only stare up at Lucius in pure shock.
"Oh yes, very pretty indeed," Lucius commented and ran his index finger down Harry's length. To Harry's utter horror, he seemed to get even harder. The ribbon had been loosely tied, and now it fit snugly around his straining erection. "Not quite pretty enough, though..." Malfoy clasped one of Harry's hands and lifted it away from the footboard, then did the same with the other. Pulling Harry along with him, he sat down on the bed, looking Harry straight in the eye for the first time. The man looked barely ruffled, Harry observed; only a few blond hairs were in disarray.
Gingerly, Harry went down on one knee on the mattress, shielding his behind from pressure. Malfoy was still perfectly clothed apart from where his robe was unbuttoned at his front. His prick peered out, rosy from previous exertions. It made Harry feel ten times more naked in contrast, especially with that silly ribbon around him. Malfoy followed his eyes and smiled thinly.
"As I said, Harry," he murmured, stroking his own cock with a fleeting gesture, "I do want to sample you once more. And I need a little... inspiration from you." He pulled Harry closer until he was tucked in the crook of Lucius' arm, then gently draped him over his lap.
Harry sucked in a sharp breath when he felt his prick touching Malfoy's, the abysmal ribbon adding to the already unbearable friction. Malfoy, too, exhaled audibly, in that self-satisfied way of his. He rubbed Harry's backside, then took a bit of arseflesh and pinched it. A dull ache crept up Harry's nerves from his still-smarting hole. He squirmed, which rubbed his cock against Malfoy's and the scratchy fabric of Malfoy's robes, and made him wish he could get away with rubbing himself all over the man until he came in spurts. He hid his face to disguise his hot flush at the thought.
Malfoy swatted his pinched arse cheek lightly. "I'd like to spank you now, Harry."
A sharp burst of nerves wormed itself around Harry's stomach. Malfoy caressed his buttock, then slipped down to brush his balls. "I would enjoy it greatly. You, maybe not so much..."
He tugged at Harry's hair, forcing him to look around, and the unholy pricking in Harry's eyes returned. What was wrong with him? The thought of pleasing Malfoy, even with such a thing, sent a quiver of excitement through him. He sucked in a shaky breath, struggling for composure. Nodded once.
"If that sort of thing gives you 'pleasure'..."
"Cheeky little thing." Lucius tsked and shoved Harry down until he lay bent over Lucius' thighs. The heavy weight of Harry's prick pressed half against Malfoy's own cock, half into the warm crease of the man's thigh. Fastidiously, Lucius arranged his legs so that Harry's thighs were spread a bit, before dealing him a sharp smack.
Harry flinched as the ache echoed right down into his hole. He tensed and felt his prick digging into Malfoy's groin. Cursing inwardly, he bit his tongue, only to draw blood when Malfoy slapped him again, laying a pattern of stingy blows all over Harry's arse cheeks. They heated quickly to what Harry knew had to be an unseemly, blazing red. In between spanks, Malfoy paused to rub and pinch his abused flesh.
Malfoy took pleasure in hitting him indeed, Harry couldn't help but notice. The man's prick seemed to harden with every blow he delivered, matching Harry's hardness in no time. Even Harry's smarting buttocks failed to deflate his own erection, though. The two cocks pressed together as if to feed off each other's heat.
After a moment's reprieve, Lucius resumed his spanks, sharp and irregular and yet somehow managing to always hit the most vulnerable spot. Harry's arse felt as if he'd been sitting on a furnace, and every new slap speared into him as if Malfoy was still buried inside him to the balls. He could hear his breath hitch, and his face started to crumble against the sheets. He knew that Malfoy enjoyed hearing his soft whimpers from the way the bastard's cock rose against his own. Just when he'd started to fuss and squirm and knew he'd start to beg any moment, Malfoy swatted him one final time, almost playfully, before pressing both palms over Harry's glowing arse as if to warm his fingers. An appreciative hum, a long, painful press, and then Harry was shoved off Malfoy's lap and onto the floor.
Wobbling on his knees, he found himself eye to eye with Lucius' cock, not indecisive or pink any longer but fat, glistening and near-purple. Colouring aside, it was almost as hard as Harry's and Harry noticed that Malfoy's precome had soaked his ribbon.
"Nuzzle it a bit, why don't you, Harry," Malfoy suggested. His legs were set apart, and there was a rough tone to his voice. "Just rub against it a little, like a Kneazle..."
The head of Malfoy's prick shone wetly, and it rose as if to jump at Harry. The smell of it was strong, feral. Hesitantly and with butterflies in his stomach, Harry tried to ignore his burning behind and the raging erection that made his muscles tremble. He nudged the straining cock, then brushed it awkwardly with the side of his face. Somehow his lips found just the angle to slide along the pulsing length. He didn't give in to the temptation to take it into his mouth, though – Malfoy had had enough surrender from him already. But he rubbed his cheekbone against it, amazed how something could be so hard, soft and hot at the same time.
Then the prick jerked against his cheek and sputtered. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, but couldn't avoid the sharp fluid that spattered his lids, nose and mouth. Even his fringe and throat were splashed. He recoiled, falling back on his arse, and the sudden pain wrung a screech from him. Lucius' prick gave another spurt, weaker this time, leaving yet another smattering of white drops on the inside of Harry's calf.
Harry sobbed, wildly wiping a bare arm over his soiled face, which helped rubbing off some of the come, but made the smell even stronger. He couldn't look up to meet Malfoy's eyes, only scrabbled to take his weight off his smarting arse. The pressure in his chest tightened. Why was Malfoy doing this to him? Lucius had always treated him kindly – taking him to Hogsmeade weekends and events like the World Cup along with Draco, or inviting him to visit during the holidays. Yes, it had looked good in public, and had the additional advantage of infuriating Dumbledore and driving a wedge between Harry and the old headmaster, but nothing had prepared Harry for this sort of cruelty.
"You did extremely well, little Harry." Malfoy's cat-in-cream smirk it made Harry's stomach flip. Malfoy rose, casting another cleaning charm on himself before tucking his cock safely back into his robes. Then he ran a finger over Harry's cheek. It came away with a white smear. Before Harry could do anything, Malfoy had stuck it between his lips. Even as he winced at the awful taste, Harry's tongue curled around the finger until Lucius pulled it away. If anything, the satisfaction on the man's face deepened. "Very well indeed. So well that I'll be generous".
He crouched down before Harry and stroked his thigh, then took Harry's swollen cock and weighed it in his palm. By now, the soft ribbon had turned into a constant ache and cut uncomfortably into his swollen flesh. Malfoy pulled at one end of the bow, and the silk slithered away from Harry's cock with a wet tug. Harry's head fell back. The relief was as intense as if he'd already come.
"You may bring yourself off, Harry," Malfoy murmured, and Harry felt tears of shame and confusion prick in his eyes again. His body – his poor balls that ached mercilessly – was desperate for release, but if it weren't for his inability to stand another second without touching himself, Harry would rather have fled. Instead, he turned away, but Malfoy grabbed his naked shoulder and pulled him back. "No – show me. You may kneel on the carpet to protect that pretty, hot arse of yours. But I want to see what you look like."
Harry rose to his knees on the thick blue carpet and brushed his fingers against his prick. And hissed. It was so hot it almost burned his clammy fingers. The contrast was delicious and painful at once. Harry felt precome drip out when he touched the head. The small dent the ribbon had left was filling out with swollen flesh, and when he ran a nail over it, his balls pulsed once and he was coming with a shout, his spine arching under the sheer force of it as if half of his soul was being ripped out with his seed.
As if from far away, he heard Malfoy mutter a spell, and then something sliced into his brain with all the subtlety of a butcher's axe. Harry screamed and curled into a ball, covered in cold sweat and come and carpet dust. His nerves shook in expectation of the Cruciatus Curse, but it was his mind that was cut open. Memories were bleeding out like slabs of meat, prodded and examined with the shiny blade...
Tom Riddle manifesting from the diary... Harry locking his mouth over Draco's to silence a stream of foul mockery, his hands tangling in pale hair... Dumbledore's stern face as he lectured Harry about the prophecy after Harry had run from the Dursleys to visit Draco after his first year at Hogwarts... Sirius on the staircase of Grimmauld Place, his arm slung around Harry's shoulder, facing down the Order for Harry's right to stay...
Nails digging into his palms and teeth bared, Harry tried to shove Lucius out of his mind, but the instinctive resistance he had to Imperius didn't help him here – the memories crystallised for a second, pulled out of him in a blurred, indistinct fog of wants and desires. Silent lusting after Lucius, following Sirius' movements when he wasn't looking, Cho's petite elegance, Ron Weasley's towering rage... Another painful wrench, and Harry rose with his fists clenched, his thoughts barred up at last.
"What did you do to me?" he snarled, bone-deep weariness masked by rage for a short, precious moment.
"It's called Legilimency," Lucius replied, unperturbed. "To tell you the truth, Potter, I'm not very good at it. The Dark Lord is, however. And considering how ridiculously easy it was for me to break into your mind, I'd advise you to learn how to defend yourself." He closed the distance between himself and Harry, capturing Harry's fist when he swung at him, and ran his thumb along the pulse point at Harry's wrist.
"Dumbledore is a master, of course, but no good choice if you prefer to keep your little... exploits secret. Your head of house, however, is quite an expert in his own right."
"Snape hates my guts," Harry stated flatly.
"He might still teach you." Lucius brushed one of Harry's nipples suggestively, and Harry's stomach roiled. "With the right incentive..."
"I'd rather take my chances with You-Know-Who," Harry snapped, only to find himself pulled up hard against Lucius' body.
"There must be other things you can offer him, even if it's only unquestioning obedience in class." Malfoy's fingers tightened around Harry's nipple and squeezed. "I will not consider supporting you if you refuse to take the most minuscule step to protect both of us."
Harry felt his jaw harden, and took a deep breath. "I will ask him."
Lucius stared down at him for another long moment, then inclined his head, apparently satisfied. "Very well, young Harry – you've seen what I am and what I'm capable of. Do you still want to recruit me for Dumbledore's Order?"
Harry let out a bark of laughter that had Lucius' head whipping around, his brows raised.
"No, Lucius," he drawled. "I want to recruit you for me." If anything, the blond eyebrows rose higher. "I've met most of the Order, and I think they did a decent job fighting V... You-Know-Who the last time," Harry added. "But apart from my godfather and perhaps Professor Lupin, they don't trust me, they don't like me, and they won't tell me anything." Harry bit his lip, but Malfoy had already seen the truth in his mind, hadn't he? "Dumbledore told me that I was the one who had to, well, deal with You-Know-Who in the end. That there's nobody else." He lowered his head, still somewhat loath to commit what had to be a breach of confidence at best. "I can't fight for the Order if all they want to do is to keep me in the dark."
It had become abundantly clear to him when he'd sneaked out of Privet Drive to see Sirius at Grimmauld Place two weeks ago. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia told everybody he was a juvenile delinquent – Harry took quite a bit of pleasure in fitting the stereotype. But the Order members – especially the Weasley parents and Moody – had been shocked to see him, even if they'd masked it better than the younger lot, Weasley and Granger. Sirius had to put his foot down for Harry to be allowed to stay the night. The following afternoon, Dumbledore himself had turned up to send him back to the Dursleys.
Harry grimaced in retrospect. It was strangely pleasant in comparison to be held by Lucius, even naked and smelly as he was. "I realised that if I wanted to fight the Dark Lord, I had to take steps myself rather than wait for them to decide I'm old enough, or for Dumbledore to start trusting me."
"I hear strange things about Albus Dumbledore's younger days," Lucius mused. "Maybe he fears in Slytherin what he fears in himself?"
Disinclined to get into a philosophical discussion on matters Dumbledore, Harry shrugged. "I want you on my side," he said bluntly. "I want your connections, your eyes in You-Know-Who's inner circle. Not openly, of course. But I want you to pave the way for me to kill the Dark Lord, so we both – and the wizarding world – can be free of him. And in turn... I'll use the leverage that should give me." Their eyes met, and Harry saw Lucius' narrow ever so slightly. They both knew that defeating Voldemort would catapult Harry right up the ranks of power in the wizarding world – if he allowed it. "I'll use it to protect you and your family."
Lucius made to speak, but Harry put a forward hand on his arm. "Especially Draco. He's my best friend and I'd love to see him kept out of this, but he's also your son. I don't think Vo- the Dark Lord would hesitate to risk Draco's life to use him against me."
Even after four years, Harry didn't know where Draco's loyalties might fall. He'd choose 'Father' over Harry without hesitation in almost everything, but would he still if the price was Harry's life? Perhaps, Harry thought with a side glance at Lucius, the man wasn't sure about it either?
"You'd be getting a flawed spy," Lucius said after a thoughtful pause and ran a finger along Harry's collarbone as if it fascinated him greatly. "The Dark Lord is very unhappy with me – something to do with the loss of the diary, and that little incident in the graveyard..."
Harry angled his head to allow Lucius easier access to his throat. Even naked, dirty and with various aches all over his lower body, he felt... light. The tension inside him had vanished for the first time in weeks, and his mind worked as quickly as it should.
"Then we should make him happy about you again," he said. "What does he want?"
"You?" Lucius' eyes sparkled, and Harry grinned back.
"Let's not go to extremes, all right?"
"Right now, the Prophecy that has been made about the two of you in the Department of Mysteries."
"Huh?" Harry frowned.
"In the Hall of Prophecies. I thought you said you knew about it?"
"I know what it says," Harry said. "Dumbledore showed me at the beginning of second year to point out that my life was too 'precious' to risk losing it by visiting a Death Eater household." He allowed his mouth to curve down. "I had no idea it actually existed somewhere."
"It can only be retrieved by one of the people it was made about," Lucius explained. "And since the Dark Lord is quite happy that the Minister and the Daily Prophet-reading public denies his return, he will not venture there himself. He'll try to make you go in his place – another reason why you should learn Occlumency."
Harry nodded slowly. "Then I'll go there – after showing a bit of resistance. And you can dramatically take it from me and bring it to him. That should restore his confidence in you, shouldn't it?"
"It sounds promising," Lucius mused thoughtfully. "As long as you're not thinking about dragging my son along with you."
"Promise!" Harry replied emphatically.
"Besides, you will have your hands full at Hogwarts," Lucius added. "Our dear Minister Fudge is planning to tighten his control over Hogwarts and to boot out Dumbledore in favour of one of his cronies if the opportunity presents itself."
Harry snorted softly. "He's not the only one, is he? Vol- the Dark Lord wants to hook his claws into Slytherin house again, right? He did it the last time, round, and I've already noticed the way some people talk, and that they're scared to be seen with me. But Slytherin is my house. I won't let him have it." He saw the amused glint in Malfoy's eyes, and forced himself not to smile back
He'd been accused of lacking house pride before, mostly by those who didn't approve of his mixed blood, but it wasn't true even off the Quidditch Pitch. Not since getting hate-owls in his first year for having the Sorting Hat let him put among the 'dark wizards'. Not after Dumbledore's shocked face during his Sorting, and the way the old Headmaster seemed to always expect him to go on a random Killing Curse spree any second.
"Look, Lucius, I'm not in it for the power trip – that's Draco's thing. But I'm Slytherin. The Dark Lord can't have my house, and Fudge won't get my school. And if the Order won't work with me, I'll find my own allies."
He knew he could count on Sirius and Lupin, and if he could make Lucius join him, why not try his hand at Hogwarts? He was on good terms with quite a few of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs – Cho Chang, Terry Boot with his pretty, kissable mouth, or Cedric Diggory despite Harry's narrow Triwizard win. Or rather because of Harry's narrow Triwizard win. Gryffindor would need to be approached through the back door. Granger… she'd been civil enough when they'd met at Grimmauld Place, even if she seemed to be joined with Ron Weasley at the hip. Which was a pity, since Harry could imagine much better uses for said freckled hip... And there was Longbottom... bonding with him over the Prophecy would give Harry a foot in the door.
"What, your own Order, Potter?" Lucius mocked gently. "What are you going to call it? Harry's Army?"
This time, the grin won out. "It does have a certain ring to it," Harry admitted, imagining Draco's outrage at the idea.
"Harry Potter's little crusade..." Lucius shook his head, looking bemused. "And an excuse to move in on Ron Weasley? Honestly, Potter – a Weasley?"
Harry flushed hotly. Ron Weasley trapped against a wall, hands bound above his head with Harry's Slytherin tie, snarling curses while his cock leaped under Harry's fingers was one of Harry's favourite wank fantasies. Well, apart from Weasley bent over a desk with his hands bound with the selfsame tie, alternately snarling at Harry and begging him to fuck him harder. Damn Malfoy and his Legilimency for homing in on that sort of thing!
Suddenly self-conscious, he pulled free of Lucius' half-embrace. "This…" He waved his hand aimlessly to include his despoiled state, Malfoy, the come stains on the carpet and his smarting arse, "this isn't me. Not always. Not-"
"Not unless the pressure becomes too great," Lucius finished, arriving straight at the point. He made no move to recapture Harry, just looked him in the eye. "You are a young man with very strong feelings about being used," he said slowly. "Tonight, I tried to see how far I could push you before you stopped me, Potter. You never did. I find that extremely intriguing. Be happy that you decided to approach me with your needs instead of your godfather, though – he probably hasn't come to terms with you being sorted into Slytherin yet; he would not handle you wanting him to fuck you very well."
Harry winced and swore to learn Occlumency even if it meant locking himself into seclusion with Snape for two hours each day. It had to be better than having anyone stumble over how much he was turned on by the thought of being mercilessly ravished by his godfather. Then he thought about Snape finding out about it, and buried his head in his hands with a groan.
"Sirius Black loves me," he told his fingers, praying for it to be true.
Lucius observed him with blank eyes. "You remind him of his brother, I guess."
"Brother?" Harry stared, crinkling his forehead.
"Regulus. He was a Slytherin, and a Death Eater when he was barely older than yourself. Until he betrayed the Dark Lord, and died for it." Lucius reached up and lifted Harry's chin with one finger. "You even look a bit like him, apart from the eyes, and the scar." He cocked his head. "You mean Black never told you?"
"We haven't had time to swap family stories yet," Harry protested. They'd had that one night at Grimmauld Place, though. Sirius had told Harry everything about his parents, but he'd never mentioned his own family at all, apart from the fact that the painted harridan in the hallway had been his mother.
Harry lowered his hands and gave Lucius a hard look. "Harry's Army, remember? I won't let anyone drive a wedge between us – not even you. Besides, if I can come to you, I won't have to try and come on to Sirius for this." He blushed a little, realising he'd just confirmed Lucius' insinuations. "Unless you think it's dangerous to be weak once in a while."
Malfoy turned and picked Harry's cloak off the chair where Harry had shed his clothing after arriving at the room, and enveloped it around Harry's shoulders. Harry snuggled into the folds, grateful for the warmth. The fires in the guest rooms really left a lot to be desired.
"It doesn't make you weak, Potter – just human." Lucius closed the silver snake clasp at Harry's throat, then pulled Harry's cloaked form back into his arms. "Starting your own war and taking over the roles of Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic at fourteen? I'd be terrified if you didn't exhibit some weaknesses."
A small smile tugged at Harry's mouth, and he let himself sink into the longed-for embrace for a moment.
"Fifteen," he corrected softly. "It's the 31st of July, Lucius – my birthday."
~ finis ~
Title: Fishing Expedition
Author: Hijja
Pairing: Harry/Lucius
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): underage (Harry is fifteen); AU (Harry in Slytherin), spanking, a slight touch of humiliation perhaps
Summary: "Does this excite you, Potter?" a hot voice hissed against the nape of Harry's neck. "Naked in an unlocked room, like a two-Knut whore waiting for a patron?"
Note: A month late for Bring-Back-the-Porn-Day and second in the 'Fuck you, LJ!' series :). Set in the Slytherin Lovers Harry-in-Slytherin AU, but can be read perfectly independent of it. Most humble thanks for the beta to
melusinahp and viverra_libro.It was just the cold that was making him shiver, Harry told himself as he waited, his face turned away from the door and towards the window and the bed which took up half of the generous room. Despite their steep prices and posh atmosphere, they didn't stoke the fire properly at the Warlock & Wizard Guesthouse in Hogsmeade, not enough to stave off the chill of a rainy July evening in Scotland.
It was quite a fancy place; Blaise Zabini met his mother here on Hogsmeade weekends, and had invited Harry along to dinner once. Discreet, and perfect for the guest Harry had invited. If he came at all...
As if prompted by his thoughts, the door opened, and closed again. Harry didn't turn. Footsteps sounded behind him, tapping on the tiles, then muffled by the rug around the bed. Harry's toes curled when they stopped behind him. He felt fingertips brushing his shoulders, soft as butterflies, then descending to trace his vertebrae, stroking down his sides.
"Does this excite you, Potter?" a hot voice hissed against the nape of Harry's neck. "Naked in an unlocked room, like a two-Knut whore waiting for a patron?"
The thought that anybody could have stepped through the door to find him standing there naked and waiting, and could have taken advantage of the opportunity, had its very own spiked thrill. Harry shivered, and said nothing. Even the anxiety-riddled minutes before the start of the Triwizard Tasks a few short months ago had not tightened his stomach into the hard ball of nerves it was right now.
"Say my name!" the low voice demanded.
Harry swallowed and moistened his dry lips. "Lucius."
"Indeed, Potter. Just as your intriguing little invitation specified. Although I confess I hadn't expected to find this."
If Harry wasn't so shaky and exposed, he might have felt smug. He'd wanted to grab Lucius Malfoy's attention – it looked as if he'd succeeded.
Malfoy's hand skimmed up Harry's spine, then grabbed the back of his neck as if trying to snap it. "What makes you believe I won't drag you off to my newly risen Lord right now, Potter? In fact, I could fuck you until you're too weak to stand and then drag you off to my lord."
Harry forced himself to go limp in Malfoy's grip to reduce the strain on his neck. "You missed me on purpose, last month in the Riddle graveyard," he said, then clarified, "No, you didn't just miss me – you all but took out two Death Eaters with that misfiring spell of yours."
"You're going to stake your useless little life on the coincidence of a misfired spell? I would have thought four years in Slytherin would have cured you of such foolishness."
Doubts had crossed Harry's mind, of course. Had the misfired spell been a true mistake, no matter how unlikely, or a moment's softness, regretted afterwards? Lucius Malfoy wasn't a man who would act on a soft spot for Draco's friend, however, least of all if it incurred him the wrath of his Master.
"You don't miss." Harry's mouth was dry, but his voice sounded clear. "I saw you duelling Draco's wandmaster during the Christmas holidays in second year." It had been such a quintessentially Malfoy thing to do, hiring a famous duellist to give Draco a head start for Lockhart's Duelling Club. Not that Harry hadn't beaten him anyway. "If you fought like that for show, you wouldn’t miss in a real battle."
The night in the Riddle graveyard had been a sequence of nightmares, from the moment Harry had grabbed the Triwizard Cup an inch from Cedric Diggory's fingers just to be whisked away right in front of his rival's shocked eyes, to his return, bruised, bleeding and shielded by his parents' ghosts.
He had recognised Lucius' trademark hair in the ring of Death Eaters that night. And later, after his own mock duel with the Dark Lord, he'd seen Lucius firing off a Stunning Spell that whizzed over Harry's head, then ricocheted off a gravestone to incapacitate one of Harry pursuers and mess up the aim of another's Cruciatus.
"Ah, Potter, I am flattered. A pretty young boy, so ardently defending my wandwork..." Lucius' free hand slid over Harry's thigh, then cupped his arse cheek. Harry gasped and clutched the latticework at the foot of the bed. "And you've invited me to partake of that pretty little arse to pay your perceived debts?" Yes, there was that – if anything, Slytherin had taught Harry to settle high-stake debts proactively before those he owed could come back for higher. "What makes you think I'm interested?"
'You fondling me', was on the tip of Harry's tongue, but diplomacy won out. "I saw you looking at me during the World Cup." Not just looking – Lucius had been indulging him, too. Never one to play down his influence, he'd gone to some length to arrange for Draco and Harry to meet the world-famous Irish Chaser formation at the post-victory celebration. He hadn't touched Harry inappropriately, or made a pass, but there had been more than a touch of courtship in the way he'd treated his son's friend and guest. It had excited Harry then, and it made his heart pound now.
Malfoy pushed him forward until Harry had to grab the footboard of the bed to stop himself from pitching face-first into the mattress. The footboard was an ornate piece – a unicorn drinking from a pool, polished and carved from black mahogany. The headboard counterpart depicted a centaur looking up at the stars. Lucius gave Harry’s arse cheek another squeeze, then delved roughly into his crack. The tip of his finger slid forward easily, probing a little. Harry let out a whining noise as his cock jumped and pushed up against polished wood.
Malfoy laughed, throaty and so... dirty that Harry's entire back erupted in gooseflesh. "You've come prepared?"
"Of course," Harry ground out.
"What an unusual young man you are, Harry Potter." Lucius chuckled and rotated his fingertip a little deeper. "Well, tell me, then – have you done this before?"
"Not- not this," Harry admitted, breathless while his inner walls clenched around Lucius' finger.
"A virgin?" Malfoy downright purred, and Harry felt as if the skin of his neck was taking up the vibrations and trembled along with them. He bit his lip. Somehow, he didn't think Lucius wanted – or needed - to know that most of Harry's experience had been acquired with Draco.
The man withdrew his finger, and slyly reached around to grab Harry's prick. Harry keened and bucked, stunned speechless by the sudden onslaught of pleasure, then whimpered when Lucius pulled his hand away as quickly.
"Well, it seems as if you won't find your task too hard to perform, little one..." Harry's groin and insides twisted into a bolt of need. He pressed back to rub himself against Malfoy's front. There was something almost unbearably erotic about rubbing naked skin against a fully clothed body. Malfoy's robes had rough brocade stitching on the outside, which inflamed Harry's tender buttocks. He twisted a bit for more friction, and finally gabbled, "Please, Lucius!"
Arms in wide brocade sleeves wrapped around Harry's upper body to embrace him from behind. The fabric scraped over Harry's nipples, and he almost screamed. "Please what, little Harry?"
"Please fuck me already!" Harry hissed, hating himself for how desperate he sounded.
"Ah, don't mind if I do, Harry," Lucius whispered.
The man moved back a little, and Harry heard cloth rustle. He grabbed the footboard tighter.
Then Lucius was back, hands on Harry's hips and kicking his feet apart. Obediently, Harry spread his legs, panic, excitement and want warring inside him. Lucius put a heavy hand on his back, pushing him further down until he was all but folded over the carved frame, his prick pressed uncomfortably against the wood and his cheek resting on the duvet.
Lucius leaned over Harry's back and upturned arse, and for a second, with doxies somersaulting in his stomach, Harry thought that he would lick him there. However, the man just sniffed and gave his slickened hole another prod.
"You seem prepared well enough," he commented, and Harry flushed hotly. He'd filched the potion from Draco's generous stores, and suddenly had a very good idea where Draco had got it from. "Still ready for this, little Potter?"
Harry nodded once, a jerky movement of his bowed head, and Lucius' cock poked his entrance without any more ado. Only his quick intake of breath before Malfoy breached him prevented Harry from crying out at the sudden pain. The potion let Lucius slip forward with barely any resistance, but did nothing to minimise the intrusion, or decrease the speed with which Malfoy shoved himself into him.
"Is this what you wanted?" Malfoy whispered against his cheek when he was sheathed to the hilt, and through the raging fire in his arse Harry could feel the weight of the man's balls nudging against him.
Even if Harry had enough air in his lungs and wasn't gnawing his bottom lip to stifle his cries, he couldn't have answered that. Bitter heat burned in his eyes, and he buried his face in the duvet.
"Well, never mind," Lucius commented. "It is certainly as good as I'd thought."
He shifted, sending Harry's nerve ends flaring. Harry hadn't turned to see what Malfoy's cock looked like, but now it felt as huge as a Beater's bat stuffed into him.
Fingers digging hard into the tender joint where Harry's hip met thigh, Lucius gave a few experimental slides as if to test speed and leverage. Each of them elicited a flinch from Harry's overstretched body. Harry felt sweat beading on the thin skin above his spine, and the muscles in his calves knotted with tension.
Then a sharp forward jab scraped the inside of his channel and threw Harry against the bed. He howled, then bit his lip until he tasted blood, certain that Malfoy had somehow split his intestines. Weakly, he tried to struggle, but merciless hands held him in place as Malfoy slid out a bit, then back inside him again, fuelled by the lubrication potion that seemed to make what was agony to Harry the most easy thing in the world for Malfoy.
Harry sniffled once, then angrily berated himself. It hurt, yes, but he'd suffered the Cruciatus Curse without tearing up afterwards. If he could just weather the onslaught, Malfoy would have to finish sooner or later. There was no reason for his skin to go clammy all over, for the dizzy spots in front of his eyes, or for the infernal tears that threatened to spill. He wanted Malfoy to die on the spot, but at the same time craved for the man to wrap his arms around him again, and stroke away the pain and confusion.
Instead of wilting, Harry's prick seemed to react as wrongly as his mind. It pushed against the wood, rubbing against the carved spiral horn of the unicorn in time with Malfoy's thrusts. It felt hot and sluggish and at first Harry wondered whether the tight heat in his balls was just the echo of Lucius' wedged in just behind.
Head spinning, Harry unclasped his left hand from the foot of the bed and sneaked down to touch his aching prick. In mid-move, Lucius caught him and slapped his fingers away.
"This is about my satisfaction, not yours, boy," he hissed into Harry's ear, and Harry felt soft hair against his cheek. With tears of frustration in his eyes, he nodded and miserably returned his hand to the footboard. "Better!" Lucius murmured and followed the mock praise with another thrust that rocked Harry onto his toes and all but squashed his prick. Mortified, Harry felt the head smear a few drops of sticky precome against the valuable wood.
He let himself go limp in Malfoy's grip and allowed the man to rock him at will, taking his pleasure. The rhythmic slides made the intrusion less painful, or perhaps the potion had finally kicked in after Harry had lived through the initial shock. At the same time, the way Lucius' movements pressed Harry's prick against the carving made it very hard not to come. Harry bit his tongue, trying to focus on the pain. He had no idea what Lucius would do if he spilled himself when his pleasure was obviously not wanted, but he didn't want to find out.
A deep, satisfied exhale was all that announced that Malfoy's release was imminent, and then Harry felt sticky warmth erupting inside him, squishy but pleasant on the maltreated walls of his arse. The man stayed buried inside him for a long moment, chin resting on Harry's shoulder as if to savour the experience.
Then he pulled out, carefully enough but still making Harry's arse clench at the stabbing pain. A sticky mess dripped from Harry's hole. He cringed, but Malfoy seemed oblivious to his discomfort. The words of a cleaning charm sounded behind Harry's back, followed by a whiff of wintergreen, but the courtesy was not extended to him.
"Would you like to lie down?" Lucius asked solicitously when Harry tottered on wobbly feet. Removed from the footboard, his prick strained up to his stomach in an ugly red.
"Yes, please," Harry whispered, dreading any pressure on his arse but too winded to stay upright.
"Well, that's too bad," Lucius commented, unfazed. "Since you came to me and practically begged for this, you can just as well get through it on your feet." Harry's mouth thinned in exasperation, but Lucius was right. Discomfort wouldn't sway him. "Still sure I won't cart you off to the Dark Lord now that I've sampled your doubtful charms?" Lucius asked.
"It didn't take you much doubting time to get hard for it," Harry shot back, the pressure in his balls still prominently on his mind. It was all he could do not to yell at the backhanded slap that cracked across his arse cheek. Pain shot up his insides, reminding him of just how raw Malfoy's cruel fucking had left him.
Struggling for composure, he clenched his fingers around the wood of the footboard as if to scratch at the unicorn's carved head. Leaning over the end of a bed with a raw arse and come dripping down his inner thigh was definitely his least favourite position in which to start negotiations. He hadn't quite imagined this when he sent Hedwig to Lucius with the invitation.
"I don't think you're going to drag me off to Voldemort," he began slowly, "because I think you like what you have... The ear of the Minister, influence with the Wizengamot, still being on the Board of Governors of Hogwarts..."
He gave 'still' its proper emphasis to remind Malfoy that the debts were not entirely one-sided. If Harry had told Dumbledore that Lucius had planted the Riddle Diary on Ginny Weasley, he'd have been booted off that body for sure. Harry had been sorely tempted after having fallen for Riddle like the worst idiot, and nearly being chewed to bits by the basilisk. The little Weaslette could have died. But there was Draco to consider. Harry's rivalry-ridden friendship with Lucius’s son had survived its share of mad adventures. It had survived the fact that Harry was the better flyer and duellist, and later on their first awkward sexual experimentations. Harry had known, however, that it would not survive publicly accusing Draco's adored 'Father'. For a moment, Harry wondered whether betraying or seducing Lucius would count against him worse in Draco's book.
Before Lucius could comment, he rushed on. "And now there’s Draco. I can see why being a Death Eater might have been all fun and games fifteen years ago, but Voldemort is totally mad now, and doesn't give a toss about who he uses or what happens to them. I can't see you wanting that, either for Draco or Mrs Malfoy."
Another slap, and this time it wrung a yelp from him while Harry's entire body rocked. "Don't say the Dark Lord's name!"
Harry's forehead crinkled in exasperation. "Why not?" he challenged. "Fear of the thing-"
"The Dark Lord has the power to trace those who speak his name, and only his enemies would. Or at least he had the power, when he was at full strength."
Harry fell silent, his mouth open. "I didn't know that," he whispered at last.
"Few do." Lucius snorted softly. "The wizarding public has the right instinct for once, in calling him Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
He paused for a moment, rubbing himself absently against Harry's arse as if that would help him think. "I find your... theories about me quite interesting," he mused at last. "Misguided, but interesting. I think, however, that I've not been... compensated sufficiently so far. And you, dear Harry..." Without warning, Lucius' fingers closed around Harry's aching prick and Harry cried out. A whitish smear trickled over the man's palm, and even watching his angry, swollen organ in Malfoy's hand hurt.
The bastard chuckled, let go of Harry's prick and grabbed his wand to summon an ornamental rosette from the bed curtains. Another wand flick, and it unfurled into a red ribbon. With an evil smirk, Malfoy tied it around the middle of Harry's aching prick in a pretty bow.
The ribbon scratched Harry's inflamed flesh, but it was the look of it – deep scarlet against angry, mottled red – that made Harry's knees threaten to give out. He could only stare up at Lucius in pure shock.
"Oh yes, very pretty indeed," Lucius commented and ran his index finger down Harry's length. To Harry's utter horror, he seemed to get even harder. The ribbon had been loosely tied, and now it fit snugly around his straining erection. "Not quite pretty enough, though..." Malfoy clasped one of Harry's hands and lifted it away from the footboard, then did the same with the other. Pulling Harry along with him, he sat down on the bed, looking Harry straight in the eye for the first time. The man looked barely ruffled, Harry observed; only a few blond hairs were in disarray.
Gingerly, Harry went down on one knee on the mattress, shielding his behind from pressure. Malfoy was still perfectly clothed apart from where his robe was unbuttoned at his front. His prick peered out, rosy from previous exertions. It made Harry feel ten times more naked in contrast, especially with that silly ribbon around him. Malfoy followed his eyes and smiled thinly.
"As I said, Harry," he murmured, stroking his own cock with a fleeting gesture, "I do want to sample you once more. And I need a little... inspiration from you." He pulled Harry closer until he was tucked in the crook of Lucius' arm, then gently draped him over his lap.
Harry sucked in a sharp breath when he felt his prick touching Malfoy's, the abysmal ribbon adding to the already unbearable friction. Malfoy, too, exhaled audibly, in that self-satisfied way of his. He rubbed Harry's backside, then took a bit of arseflesh and pinched it. A dull ache crept up Harry's nerves from his still-smarting hole. He squirmed, which rubbed his cock against Malfoy's and the scratchy fabric of Malfoy's robes, and made him wish he could get away with rubbing himself all over the man until he came in spurts. He hid his face to disguise his hot flush at the thought.
Malfoy swatted his pinched arse cheek lightly. "I'd like to spank you now, Harry."
A sharp burst of nerves wormed itself around Harry's stomach. Malfoy caressed his buttock, then slipped down to brush his balls. "I would enjoy it greatly. You, maybe not so much..."
He tugged at Harry's hair, forcing him to look around, and the unholy pricking in Harry's eyes returned. What was wrong with him? The thought of pleasing Malfoy, even with such a thing, sent a quiver of excitement through him. He sucked in a shaky breath, struggling for composure. Nodded once.
"If that sort of thing gives you 'pleasure'..."
"Cheeky little thing." Lucius tsked and shoved Harry down until he lay bent over Lucius' thighs. The heavy weight of Harry's prick pressed half against Malfoy's own cock, half into the warm crease of the man's thigh. Fastidiously, Lucius arranged his legs so that Harry's thighs were spread a bit, before dealing him a sharp smack.
Harry flinched as the ache echoed right down into his hole. He tensed and felt his prick digging into Malfoy's groin. Cursing inwardly, he bit his tongue, only to draw blood when Malfoy slapped him again, laying a pattern of stingy blows all over Harry's arse cheeks. They heated quickly to what Harry knew had to be an unseemly, blazing red. In between spanks, Malfoy paused to rub and pinch his abused flesh.
Malfoy took pleasure in hitting him indeed, Harry couldn't help but notice. The man's prick seemed to harden with every blow he delivered, matching Harry's hardness in no time. Even Harry's smarting buttocks failed to deflate his own erection, though. The two cocks pressed together as if to feed off each other's heat.
After a moment's reprieve, Lucius resumed his spanks, sharp and irregular and yet somehow managing to always hit the most vulnerable spot. Harry's arse felt as if he'd been sitting on a furnace, and every new slap speared into him as if Malfoy was still buried inside him to the balls. He could hear his breath hitch, and his face started to crumble against the sheets. He knew that Malfoy enjoyed hearing his soft whimpers from the way the bastard's cock rose against his own. Just when he'd started to fuss and squirm and knew he'd start to beg any moment, Malfoy swatted him one final time, almost playfully, before pressing both palms over Harry's glowing arse as if to warm his fingers. An appreciative hum, a long, painful press, and then Harry was shoved off Malfoy's lap and onto the floor.
Wobbling on his knees, he found himself eye to eye with Lucius' cock, not indecisive or pink any longer but fat, glistening and near-purple. Colouring aside, it was almost as hard as Harry's and Harry noticed that Malfoy's precome had soaked his ribbon.
"Nuzzle it a bit, why don't you, Harry," Malfoy suggested. His legs were set apart, and there was a rough tone to his voice. "Just rub against it a little, like a Kneazle..."
The head of Malfoy's prick shone wetly, and it rose as if to jump at Harry. The smell of it was strong, feral. Hesitantly and with butterflies in his stomach, Harry tried to ignore his burning behind and the raging erection that made his muscles tremble. He nudged the straining cock, then brushed it awkwardly with the side of his face. Somehow his lips found just the angle to slide along the pulsing length. He didn't give in to the temptation to take it into his mouth, though – Malfoy had had enough surrender from him already. But he rubbed his cheekbone against it, amazed how something could be so hard, soft and hot at the same time.
Then the prick jerked against his cheek and sputtered. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, but couldn't avoid the sharp fluid that spattered his lids, nose and mouth. Even his fringe and throat were splashed. He recoiled, falling back on his arse, and the sudden pain wrung a screech from him. Lucius' prick gave another spurt, weaker this time, leaving yet another smattering of white drops on the inside of Harry's calf.
Harry sobbed, wildly wiping a bare arm over his soiled face, which helped rubbing off some of the come, but made the smell even stronger. He couldn't look up to meet Malfoy's eyes, only scrabbled to take his weight off his smarting arse. The pressure in his chest tightened. Why was Malfoy doing this to him? Lucius had always treated him kindly – taking him to Hogsmeade weekends and events like the World Cup along with Draco, or inviting him to visit during the holidays. Yes, it had looked good in public, and had the additional advantage of infuriating Dumbledore and driving a wedge between Harry and the old headmaster, but nothing had prepared Harry for this sort of cruelty.
"You did extremely well, little Harry." Malfoy's cat-in-cream smirk it made Harry's stomach flip. Malfoy rose, casting another cleaning charm on himself before tucking his cock safely back into his robes. Then he ran a finger over Harry's cheek. It came away with a white smear. Before Harry could do anything, Malfoy had stuck it between his lips. Even as he winced at the awful taste, Harry's tongue curled around the finger until Lucius pulled it away. If anything, the satisfaction on the man's face deepened. "Very well indeed. So well that I'll be generous".
He crouched down before Harry and stroked his thigh, then took Harry's swollen cock and weighed it in his palm. By now, the soft ribbon had turned into a constant ache and cut uncomfortably into his swollen flesh. Malfoy pulled at one end of the bow, and the silk slithered away from Harry's cock with a wet tug. Harry's head fell back. The relief was as intense as if he'd already come.
"You may bring yourself off, Harry," Malfoy murmured, and Harry felt tears of shame and confusion prick in his eyes again. His body – his poor balls that ached mercilessly – was desperate for release, but if it weren't for his inability to stand another second without touching himself, Harry would rather have fled. Instead, he turned away, but Malfoy grabbed his naked shoulder and pulled him back. "No – show me. You may kneel on the carpet to protect that pretty, hot arse of yours. But I want to see what you look like."
Harry rose to his knees on the thick blue carpet and brushed his fingers against his prick. And hissed. It was so hot it almost burned his clammy fingers. The contrast was delicious and painful at once. Harry felt precome drip out when he touched the head. The small dent the ribbon had left was filling out with swollen flesh, and when he ran a nail over it, his balls pulsed once and he was coming with a shout, his spine arching under the sheer force of it as if half of his soul was being ripped out with his seed.
As if from far away, he heard Malfoy mutter a spell, and then something sliced into his brain with all the subtlety of a butcher's axe. Harry screamed and curled into a ball, covered in cold sweat and come and carpet dust. His nerves shook in expectation of the Cruciatus Curse, but it was his mind that was cut open. Memories were bleeding out like slabs of meat, prodded and examined with the shiny blade...
Tom Riddle manifesting from the diary... Harry locking his mouth over Draco's to silence a stream of foul mockery, his hands tangling in pale hair... Dumbledore's stern face as he lectured Harry about the prophecy after Harry had run from the Dursleys to visit Draco after his first year at Hogwarts... Sirius on the staircase of Grimmauld Place, his arm slung around Harry's shoulder, facing down the Order for Harry's right to stay...
Nails digging into his palms and teeth bared, Harry tried to shove Lucius out of his mind, but the instinctive resistance he had to Imperius didn't help him here – the memories crystallised for a second, pulled out of him in a blurred, indistinct fog of wants and desires. Silent lusting after Lucius, following Sirius' movements when he wasn't looking, Cho's petite elegance, Ron Weasley's towering rage... Another painful wrench, and Harry rose with his fists clenched, his thoughts barred up at last.
"What did you do to me?" he snarled, bone-deep weariness masked by rage for a short, precious moment.
"It's called Legilimency," Lucius replied, unperturbed. "To tell you the truth, Potter, I'm not very good at it. The Dark Lord is, however. And considering how ridiculously easy it was for me to break into your mind, I'd advise you to learn how to defend yourself." He closed the distance between himself and Harry, capturing Harry's fist when he swung at him, and ran his thumb along the pulse point at Harry's wrist.
"Dumbledore is a master, of course, but no good choice if you prefer to keep your little... exploits secret. Your head of house, however, is quite an expert in his own right."
"Snape hates my guts," Harry stated flatly.
"He might still teach you." Lucius brushed one of Harry's nipples suggestively, and Harry's stomach roiled. "With the right incentive..."
"I'd rather take my chances with You-Know-Who," Harry snapped, only to find himself pulled up hard against Lucius' body.
"There must be other things you can offer him, even if it's only unquestioning obedience in class." Malfoy's fingers tightened around Harry's nipple and squeezed. "I will not consider supporting you if you refuse to take the most minuscule step to protect both of us."
Harry felt his jaw harden, and took a deep breath. "I will ask him."
Lucius stared down at him for another long moment, then inclined his head, apparently satisfied. "Very well, young Harry – you've seen what I am and what I'm capable of. Do you still want to recruit me for Dumbledore's Order?"
Harry let out a bark of laughter that had Lucius' head whipping around, his brows raised.
"No, Lucius," he drawled. "I want to recruit you for me." If anything, the blond eyebrows rose higher. "I've met most of the Order, and I think they did a decent job fighting V... You-Know-Who the last time," Harry added. "But apart from my godfather and perhaps Professor Lupin, they don't trust me, they don't like me, and they won't tell me anything." Harry bit his lip, but Malfoy had already seen the truth in his mind, hadn't he? "Dumbledore told me that I was the one who had to, well, deal with You-Know-Who in the end. That there's nobody else." He lowered his head, still somewhat loath to commit what had to be a breach of confidence at best. "I can't fight for the Order if all they want to do is to keep me in the dark."
It had become abundantly clear to him when he'd sneaked out of Privet Drive to see Sirius at Grimmauld Place two weeks ago. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia told everybody he was a juvenile delinquent – Harry took quite a bit of pleasure in fitting the stereotype. But the Order members – especially the Weasley parents and Moody – had been shocked to see him, even if they'd masked it better than the younger lot, Weasley and Granger. Sirius had to put his foot down for Harry to be allowed to stay the night. The following afternoon, Dumbledore himself had turned up to send him back to the Dursleys.
Harry grimaced in retrospect. It was strangely pleasant in comparison to be held by Lucius, even naked and smelly as he was. "I realised that if I wanted to fight the Dark Lord, I had to take steps myself rather than wait for them to decide I'm old enough, or for Dumbledore to start trusting me."
"I hear strange things about Albus Dumbledore's younger days," Lucius mused. "Maybe he fears in Slytherin what he fears in himself?"
Disinclined to get into a philosophical discussion on matters Dumbledore, Harry shrugged. "I want you on my side," he said bluntly. "I want your connections, your eyes in You-Know-Who's inner circle. Not openly, of course. But I want you to pave the way for me to kill the Dark Lord, so we both – and the wizarding world – can be free of him. And in turn... I'll use the leverage that should give me." Their eyes met, and Harry saw Lucius' narrow ever so slightly. They both knew that defeating Voldemort would catapult Harry right up the ranks of power in the wizarding world – if he allowed it. "I'll use it to protect you and your family."
Lucius made to speak, but Harry put a forward hand on his arm. "Especially Draco. He's my best friend and I'd love to see him kept out of this, but he's also your son. I don't think Vo- the Dark Lord would hesitate to risk Draco's life to use him against me."
Even after four years, Harry didn't know where Draco's loyalties might fall. He'd choose 'Father' over Harry without hesitation in almost everything, but would he still if the price was Harry's life? Perhaps, Harry thought with a side glance at Lucius, the man wasn't sure about it either?
"You'd be getting a flawed spy," Lucius said after a thoughtful pause and ran a finger along Harry's collarbone as if it fascinated him greatly. "The Dark Lord is very unhappy with me – something to do with the loss of the diary, and that little incident in the graveyard..."
Harry angled his head to allow Lucius easier access to his throat. Even naked, dirty and with various aches all over his lower body, he felt... light. The tension inside him had vanished for the first time in weeks, and his mind worked as quickly as it should.
"Then we should make him happy about you again," he said. "What does he want?"
"You?" Lucius' eyes sparkled, and Harry grinned back.
"Let's not go to extremes, all right?"
"Right now, the Prophecy that has been made about the two of you in the Department of Mysteries."
"Huh?" Harry frowned.
"In the Hall of Prophecies. I thought you said you knew about it?"
"I know what it says," Harry said. "Dumbledore showed me at the beginning of second year to point out that my life was too 'precious' to risk losing it by visiting a Death Eater household." He allowed his mouth to curve down. "I had no idea it actually existed somewhere."
"It can only be retrieved by one of the people it was made about," Lucius explained. "And since the Dark Lord is quite happy that the Minister and the Daily Prophet-reading public denies his return, he will not venture there himself. He'll try to make you go in his place – another reason why you should learn Occlumency."
Harry nodded slowly. "Then I'll go there – after showing a bit of resistance. And you can dramatically take it from me and bring it to him. That should restore his confidence in you, shouldn't it?"
"It sounds promising," Lucius mused thoughtfully. "As long as you're not thinking about dragging my son along with you."
"Promise!" Harry replied emphatically.
"Besides, you will have your hands full at Hogwarts," Lucius added. "Our dear Minister Fudge is planning to tighten his control over Hogwarts and to boot out Dumbledore in favour of one of his cronies if the opportunity presents itself."
Harry snorted softly. "He's not the only one, is he? Vol- the Dark Lord wants to hook his claws into Slytherin house again, right? He did it the last time, round, and I've already noticed the way some people talk, and that they're scared to be seen with me. But Slytherin is my house. I won't let him have it." He saw the amused glint in Malfoy's eyes, and forced himself not to smile back
He'd been accused of lacking house pride before, mostly by those who didn't approve of his mixed blood, but it wasn't true even off the Quidditch Pitch. Not since getting hate-owls in his first year for having the Sorting Hat let him put among the 'dark wizards'. Not after Dumbledore's shocked face during his Sorting, and the way the old Headmaster seemed to always expect him to go on a random Killing Curse spree any second.
"Look, Lucius, I'm not in it for the power trip – that's Draco's thing. But I'm Slytherin. The Dark Lord can't have my house, and Fudge won't get my school. And if the Order won't work with me, I'll find my own allies."
He knew he could count on Sirius and Lupin, and if he could make Lucius join him, why not try his hand at Hogwarts? He was on good terms with quite a few of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs – Cho Chang, Terry Boot with his pretty, kissable mouth, or Cedric Diggory despite Harry's narrow Triwizard win. Or rather because of Harry's narrow Triwizard win. Gryffindor would need to be approached through the back door. Granger… she'd been civil enough when they'd met at Grimmauld Place, even if she seemed to be joined with Ron Weasley at the hip. Which was a pity, since Harry could imagine much better uses for said freckled hip... And there was Longbottom... bonding with him over the Prophecy would give Harry a foot in the door.
"What, your own Order, Potter?" Lucius mocked gently. "What are you going to call it? Harry's Army?"
This time, the grin won out. "It does have a certain ring to it," Harry admitted, imagining Draco's outrage at the idea.
"Harry Potter's little crusade..." Lucius shook his head, looking bemused. "And an excuse to move in on Ron Weasley? Honestly, Potter – a Weasley?"
Harry flushed hotly. Ron Weasley trapped against a wall, hands bound above his head with Harry's Slytherin tie, snarling curses while his cock leaped under Harry's fingers was one of Harry's favourite wank fantasies. Well, apart from Weasley bent over a desk with his hands bound with the selfsame tie, alternately snarling at Harry and begging him to fuck him harder. Damn Malfoy and his Legilimency for homing in on that sort of thing!
Suddenly self-conscious, he pulled free of Lucius' half-embrace. "This…" He waved his hand aimlessly to include his despoiled state, Malfoy, the come stains on the carpet and his smarting arse, "this isn't me. Not always. Not-"
"Not unless the pressure becomes too great," Lucius finished, arriving straight at the point. He made no move to recapture Harry, just looked him in the eye. "You are a young man with very strong feelings about being used," he said slowly. "Tonight, I tried to see how far I could push you before you stopped me, Potter. You never did. I find that extremely intriguing. Be happy that you decided to approach me with your needs instead of your godfather, though – he probably hasn't come to terms with you being sorted into Slytherin yet; he would not handle you wanting him to fuck you very well."
Harry winced and swore to learn Occlumency even if it meant locking himself into seclusion with Snape for two hours each day. It had to be better than having anyone stumble over how much he was turned on by the thought of being mercilessly ravished by his godfather. Then he thought about Snape finding out about it, and buried his head in his hands with a groan.
"Sirius Black loves me," he told his fingers, praying for it to be true.
Lucius observed him with blank eyes. "You remind him of his brother, I guess."
"Brother?" Harry stared, crinkling his forehead.
"Regulus. He was a Slytherin, and a Death Eater when he was barely older than yourself. Until he betrayed the Dark Lord, and died for it." Lucius reached up and lifted Harry's chin with one finger. "You even look a bit like him, apart from the eyes, and the scar." He cocked his head. "You mean Black never told you?"
"We haven't had time to swap family stories yet," Harry protested. They'd had that one night at Grimmauld Place, though. Sirius had told Harry everything about his parents, but he'd never mentioned his own family at all, apart from the fact that the painted harridan in the hallway had been his mother.
Harry lowered his hands and gave Lucius a hard look. "Harry's Army, remember? I won't let anyone drive a wedge between us – not even you. Besides, if I can come to you, I won't have to try and come on to Sirius for this." He blushed a little, realising he'd just confirmed Lucius' insinuations. "Unless you think it's dangerous to be weak once in a while."
Malfoy turned and picked Harry's cloak off the chair where Harry had shed his clothing after arriving at the room, and enveloped it around Harry's shoulders. Harry snuggled into the folds, grateful for the warmth. The fires in the guest rooms really left a lot to be desired.
"It doesn't make you weak, Potter – just human." Lucius closed the silver snake clasp at Harry's throat, then pulled Harry's cloaked form back into his arms. "Starting your own war and taking over the roles of Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic at fourteen? I'd be terrified if you didn't exhibit some weaknesses."
A small smile tugged at Harry's mouth, and he let himself sink into the longed-for embrace for a moment.
"Fifteen," he corrected softly. "It's the 31st of July, Lucius – my birthday."
