SCENE #The white wolf

Harry slipped into Remus’s classroom after the last student filed out for the day, hands tapping mindlessly on each desk as he passed them and approached his professor. Remus had his head down, fiddling with some paperwork to finish, so Harry waited patiently, staring out the window at the snow covering the ground outside. Sirius was hidden away somewhere out there, although the man came by, time to time, to visit in the Shrieking Shack and spend nights with them.

“What did you want, pup?” Remus asked gruffly. Beaming, Harry turned to reveal his bloodied face and bruised cheekbone, eyes falling onto Remus’s exasperated expression. “Tell me he at least looks worse?”

Harry nodded, wincing slightly as it pulled at a sore cut. He licked his lips, tasting blood, eyes taking in Remus’s mussed hair and rumpled shirt, as if the man just couldn’t go the day without lounging and stretching, and doing things to Harry that made him even more rumpled looking. Which Harry was really hoping for because he was aching after fighting with Draco Malfoy, and since Remus had not approved of anyone to touch Harry, the werewolf was currently his only option with Sirius out.

Remus had also been very resistant lately, somewhat uncomfortable with Sirius not around to join in. It had been way too long and Harry was taking greater risks, trying to get what he needed. Sirius had warned him that Remus might slip into halfblood, muggle, backwards nonsense, but Harry hadn’t really understood what that meant until Remus had stopped filling him.

“Tell me what happened,” Remus ordered in his quiet way, waiting for Harry to step up to his desk across from him so he could view the damage.

“Oh, you know, he was cracking something about mudbloods again… Fuck, Remus, he really has such a nasty mouth,” Harry said hungrily, leaning in to let large fingers touch the cut on his lip, and then the bruise on his cheek.

“That may be extremely accurate, Harry, but until you can prove to me that you can keep him in his place, you know I can’t let you near him. You are of my pack, and even the way you are, you need to reflect the right level of intimidation to those outside the pack.”

Harry whined, eyes closing into the touch. “It’s so fucking hard, Remus, so fucking hard to not want him to say such fucked up things to me. I want him to do things to me… oh, the things you and Siri do… but with his nasty mouth.”

Remus sighed, caressing the boy’s cheek, watching his dark eyelashes sweep over his pale skin. Harry had gotten stronger since joining Remus’s pack and magic. Stronger physically and emotionally. He could transform now, nearly with pure ease into the young, spitfire of a chocolate dog that happily chased Padfoot around in the forest, cheering and grounding the older dog so much that Sirius seemed himself again. Harry was waking them both up, erasing a lot of the damp and ice from the last years. But the boy was still a handful, all said and done.

They were glad that Harry was better, seemingly happy to have the two men in his life, and learning to accept the ache that had consumed his existence since it woke up. Remus suspected something was still wrong with the boy, Harry prone to dark, angry moods, and spending a lot of time alone. He had stopped talking to his old friends all together and seemed to have little interest in making new ones.

Harry was just too different now, had always been, but now he couldn’t deny it anymore. It was too difficult to be around others that expected him to be something he was not, instead of accepting him for how he was. Which was likely why Harry had become drawn to the the obnoxious, rabid toothed Malfoy who had never seen Harry the way everyone else did.

Sirius was just as pissed as Remus was that Harry had fixated on the Slytherin menace. Of all the people to have a crush on, Draco Malfoy was not the boy. He was an arrogant, conniving, piece of shit death eater in training with parents, amazingly enough, even worse. The only good thing about him was his absolute terror of Remus. Terror Remus had started to treasure after realizing the way Harry was fucking determined to get the vicious prat into his hole.

Harry suspected that Malfoy had a canine in there under it all, and Remus thought Harry was probably right, if only because his ache had yet to be wrong. It still didn’t mean he wanted the arrogant sod touching Harry, never mind had any interest in him as a packmate.

“Remus, he fucking touched me today,” Harry whispered breathlessly, eyes half open to stare at the brooding man. “Right after I finally let him up—I think I might have broken his finger.”

Remus smiled at that, pulling out his wand to heal the wounds on Harry’s face, leaving the cut on his lip because the boy loved how those hurt so good. “How did he touch you?”

“Pushed me up against the wall with his hands and body… called me a filthy whore halfblood mutt…” Harry was trembling, lips parted to pant. “Said… fuck… said someone should show me how purebloods took care of things proper… And I… I couldn’t help myself, Remus—I tried, I really, really did,” Harry whimpered anxiously, eyes sliding away as Remus growled and pulled his face up to meet him again.

“What did you do, pup?” So help Draco Malfoy if he touched Harry—even if Harry could convince a damn stone to fuck him raw on its own accord. Harry bit his lip, tongue flicking out to lick over the cut there. “Harry, tell me.”

“God… okay… I’m sorry, I… I made that noise you told me not to make around other people,” Harry whispered, scratching his messy locks worriedly.

“The moaning one?” Remus asked, voice gone flat, eyes hard with rage. “Which one?”

Harry bit his lip harder, eyes staring at the desk. “The loud one… the long loud one when you’re usually, oh, pushing in so hard…”

“Fuck,” Remus snapped, grabbing Harry by the back of his neck and holding him still as the boy insisted on swaying. “What did he do? Was there anyone else there? Did anyone figure out what you wanted?”

Harry smiled again, panting heavier. “No one else… just him… and me…”

“I told you not to be alone with him, Potter,” Remus growled, infuriated when Harry continued his secret smile.

“No, he followed me.” Harry said. “And I beat him up, again, like you said. And he pushed me up against the wall and said terrible, nasty things to me. Fuck… and then I made the noise… that noise you and Siri like so much. And he—he kissed me!” Triumphant, Harry beamed again while Remus snarled.

Sirius was going to murder the little Slytherin prick, and Remus was going to fucking help.

Glaring, he pulled Harry across the large desk, pushing his head down into the hard wood and grinding his face. He bent down, listening to Harry gasp with head turning so he could breathe easier. “How did he kiss you?”

Harry pouted, eyes meeting Remus’s angry ones. “He was… rather dull about it, actually,” Harry admitted with a sigh, thinking back to the incident.

“Dull?”

“Sweet… too soft… Like I was a girl, or something.”

Remus blinked, letting Harry up and sitting down in his chair. Harry didn’t move for a moment, then turned his head so he could watch Remus from his prone position on the desk, tongue again licking out to run across the cut on his lip. The boy really was getting better, more in control, although still hornier than sin.

“Pup… do you think the little git might like you?”

Harry shrugged awkwardly, not having given it much thought. He knew what he wanted from Malfoy, but hadn’t thought much what the boy might want from him beyond stopping the ache. “I dunno… Does it really matter?”

Remus shook his head, forever shocked by just how messed up the little pup was when it came to emotions. Sirius had his many excuses, but hell, Harry was still so young. His muggle family had really messed the boy up. “You tell me.”

Harry groaned, head thudding back down on the desk. “I don’t care… Just fucking need, and not in a soft, sweet way. It’s been so long… Remi, are you going to—?”

“No,” Remus growled, meeting the frustrated face turned his way again. “I told you to stay away from him. I told you to never be alone with him.”

Harry groaned again, his hands coming to his face, pulling at his hair, and licking at his fingers and palms in a desperate way. “Fuck… damn it… why do I tell you the truth if you’re just going to punish me for it every time?” He whimpered in anguish. “It’s been way too long… fucking need it…”

“Because you need to remind me of all the fucking bad things you do, Harry, or I might think you’re a good boy,” Remus said softly, watching the boy moan and arch at the answer.

Raising his hand, Remus summoned an owl, scrawling a note and sending it off while Harry sulked agitatedly, lying half on the desk, knees hovering off the floor while his sneakers curled toes on the ground. Remus tangled fingers in the boy’s dark brown hair, combing soothingly, bringing Harry back to some sort of calm semblance beyond just pure ache, like he had been teaching him.

SCENE #Fucked up werewolves

There was a knock at the classroom door and Harry jerked alert, having spaced out long moments under Remus’s soothing touch. Remus held him down with his hand, waving the door unlocked with another. “Enter.”

“You wanted to see me… sir?” There really was no better term for Malfoy but pale. Well, except slimy git, but that went without saying in Remus’s eyes. The boy was white blond hair, silver gray eyes, and pale moonlight skin. A little taller than Harry, bulked more, but both boys ridiculous thin still. Currently covered in cuts and bruises, looking half healed, as if Remus had interrupted him.

The boy was fearful as well, a body half strewn across Remus’s desk likely not helping matters in that area. Internally smirking at the thought, Remus waved Malfoy in, locking the door behind him.

“Potter here told me you two were brawling again,” Remus began, watching as Harry focused at Draco’s approach, green eyes following intently as the boy came into his range of vision from the desktop.

Draco was staring at Harry, confusion and something else flitting across his face. Then he looked up, flinching as he met Remus’s golden glare. “Er… is this a detention thing?”

Remus raised his brows, meeting Harry’s interested look. “Do you have many teachers giving you detention over their desk, Malfoy?” Harry asked nonchalantly, head firmly stuck under Remus’s heavy palm.

Draco didn’t answer, instead slowly biting his lip as he looked Harry over. Then, once again, silver eyes were back to Remus’s, less flinching this time and more curious.

“Hands,” Remus said simply, waiting patiently for Draco to place his pale, graceful ones before him, fingers bruised, knuckles scraped bloody. “You did break his finger… two of them…” Remus glanced up at the pale boy’s face, grabbing the broken digits and twisting hard.

Draco gasped, but didn’t yell out, instead glaring at Remus as the man twisted his hand backwards.

The bones were already healing, and Draco showed amazing resilience to pain. Suspicious, Remus pulled the hand towards him, growling when the boy made to resist. Then, letting his claws grow, he cut Draco until scarlet pooled into his pale palm. Remus didn’t need to taste to know, but he did anyways, because Harry was staring with such interest it seemed rude to waste it.

Remus let Malfoy go, pulled Harry up by his hair and snatched his glasses off, and then slammed him back down into the desk.

“What is he?” Harry asked, panting softly.

“Wolf—He’s a fucking wolf, and you didn’t even notice,” Remus growled, pulling Harry up again and dragging him across the desk until they were face to face. “How long have you been fighting with him? This whole god damn time, and you couldn’t tell?”

“You didn’t fucking notice,” Harry shot back, groaning as Remus snarled and shoved his head back down on the desk, splattering the papers he had been grading with spots of blood. “Fuck… fucking tease…” Harry moaned, green eyes hazing, mouth gaping loud pants.

“Cry about it, bitch,” Remus muttered, fixing his glare on the very still, very silent Slytherin pain in the ass that had a wolf animagus form. What the fuck was he supposed to tell Sirius now? That their reckless, fiery pup had fallen for some nasty mouthed, noble hearted, god damn wolf? That would go over well, Siri already so ridiculously protective when it came to the pup.

It explained the kid’s absolute fear of him, werewolves pretty much being the goddamn monster under the bed for any self respecting wolf. Didn’t explain the overall fucking prat in him though, but maybe that was just Lucius and Voldemort’s doing. Hell, maybe it was just kids these days, and Remus had forgotten what it was like to not give a shit about how cutting one could be when the opportunity arose.

Remus hauled Harry up to him again by his hair, turning the boy’s gasping face to look at the very confused wolf currently licking his palm to heal the cut there. “Come on, Potter, he fucking let you break two of his fingers instead of defending himself. Never ever hurt you the way he could easily have, for all your years of fighting. You can’t want something so fucking reserved and refined. He wouldn’t even know what to do with you. He’s a pup, and a damn sweet one at that, nasty mouth aside.”

Harry glared, eyes directed to Remus beside him. “You gonna fuck me, Lupin? I’m tiring you out, and we both fucking know it.”

Remus snarled, wrenching Harry’s hair and exposing his throat as he pulled him back, flipping the boy to his back and nearly into his lap. “You think some prissy little wolf can compare to a god damn werewolf? Look at him—he’s fucking pristine. How the fuck can he dirty you like you need? How can he fucking appreciate it, pup? You’d be better off with a common canine mutt, than some pretty animagus.”

“Stop being… so fucking… jealous…” Harry gasped out, body arching back, hands clawing at the desk to keep from falling off as Remus pulled him further back to the edge.

Draco quietly cleared his throat, eyebrow raised coolly at the very odd display of Harry grabbing at the strong hand holding his hair, whimpering and gasping, face flushed while his teacher growled heatedly at him. “Professor, I think there has been some sort of confusion. I have no interest in challenging you for Potter… And I apologize for hurting one of your own. I did not realize he was… pack.” He said the word with a small growl, Remus stilling from the sound of it.

Remus released Harry abruptly, the boy yelping and toppling back into the man’s lap, blinking up at Remus’s golden gaze. “Remi…” he whined beseechingly, red mouth pouting.

“He fucking apologized, Potter. What if something were to happen to you while around him? How the fuck could he protect you? Would he even, considering his family? He’s fucking domestic!” Remus spat the word, glaring again at Draco’s calm form.

Draco sighed, turned away and took a few steps, and then turned back, annoyance twisting his haughty, aristocratic features. “Why the fuck am I here? I’m sorry I kissed your dog, Lupin. He reeked of sex—not of werewolf, that’s for fucking sure, because I wouldn’t have fucking messed with that shit. Do you need me to write you a god damn essay on not touching an alpha’s slut? What the fuck is going to get me out of this room and away from his fucking sex scent? He’s fucking overwhelming and I have been trying to be respectful. If you saw to him properly, this wouldn’t have even been an issue.”

Harry whined louder, eyes fluttering shut with the realization that Malfoy had been able to discern his ache and had been effected by it. “Fuck… see to me, Remi… make this fucking better…”

Remus ignored him, pushing Harry forward to sway on the desk while he stood. “Fucking listen to just how prim you are. He doesn’t want fucking respect; he wants cock. Why you would fight that damn irresistible scent doesn’t make much sense in the face of that.”

“I have my reasons.” Draco shrugged irritatedly, eyes straying again to where Harry was now sliding down to lie back on the desk, the boy’s dark head lolling to gaze hazy green eyes at him. “Probably the same reason you haven’t dealt with it yourself. He’s god damn needy and I don’t know how I feel about sharing. Better to avoid it all together.”

Remus scowled, pissed with how the little prat had damn near guessed the problem. Filling Harry was not a one time job, but a many time, exhausting fucking marathon. Remus had tried training the boy to wait longer between sessions, but had been finding that the longer the wait, the more Harry wanted to make up for it once he finally got some much needed filling. Sirius had been an important element in this filthy dynamic, but the man was holed up in hiding indefinitely, and Harry was growing very fucking impatient, training only curbing so much.

“Damn it!” Remus growled, hands slamming to each side of Harry’s prone form, green eyes looking up at him hopefully while Remus snarled back. “It’s not like there’s a god damn abundance of fucking choices out here, Malfoy. What the fuck is he supposed to do, a pack bitch without a proper sized pack?”

Draco sneered, glaring at the two of them. “What the fuck do I care? Go throw him on some city street. I’m sure he’ll attract himself a nice pack of wild dogs to fucking take care of him. Clearly he’d enjoy it, the fucking slut mutt.”

Harry gaped, aching moan slipping out, body arching on the hard desk. “Nasty… fucking nasty mouth…” he panted, head falling side to side.

“I’m actually surprised you haven’t already,” Draco continued, nostrils flaring, silver eyes sharpening as Harry gave another needy moan. “Just thrown him out in the Forbidden Forest where whatever weird shit could come along and ruin him. I doubt he cares what it is at this point—probably never fucking cared to begin with. Hell, I’m sure the giant has some beast that will ride him. He always seemed taken with those savage hippogriffs.”

He stepped over, glaring down at Harry and smirking viciously. “What do you say, Potter? Want to spread for some fucking half eagle and just utterly all horse dick? Could it even be enough for a fucking gaping hole like you? Maybe you’d need two in there? Think the oaf could do it for you finally, wedged in there with the beast?”

“Holy fuck…” Harry choked out, writhing uncontrollably on the desk, hips bucking until he was pressed up against Remus’s hot torso, neck crunched forward, back of head pressing into the man’s awakening erection. “Think… I’m… dying…”

Remus rolled his eyes, secretly impressed with the creative shit talk coming out of the little wolf bastard’s mouth. “Thanks a lot, Malfoy, now the little bitch is overcome. Do you fucking know how difficult it is to keep him from breaking down like this? It’s been months of training and he’s still a fucking mess.”

“I would have shoved something in him, and left it in him,” Draco said with a shrug, watching Harry jerk and moan again. “Don’t you fucking werewolves know how to use a dildo?”

Remus glared, grabbing Harry’s chin and turning his head when the boy seemed about ready to swallow his tongue. “Is that what you wolves use, instead of getting hard and dirty in a tight hole? You fucking prissy little princes.”

Draco barked a harsh laugh, hand smacking at Harry’s questing fingers as they reached for him. “I don’t fucking care how dirty a hole is, as long as it’s not a shit werewolf cum trap. You have to draw the line somewhere on the level of skank filth—although Potter sure as fuck can’t be arsed to. He’s too busy being double teamed by the half-giant and hippogriff.”

Harry’s hands were tearing at his own t-shirt, pulling at the material to expose his flat stomach, biting at the fabric with his mouth, wet tongue lapping as he gagged himself on the softness. He was so fucking hard, and for whatever fucking idiotic reason, no one was touching him, and he was pretty sure he was going to lose his fucking mind. He began kicking off his shoes, pressing back against Remus with his head, hoping the fucking man would cave already and put that big cock of his to proper use.

Remus seemed more interested in growling at Draco, slamming Harry’s head down, cheek bruised into the table when the boy kept trying to rub on him. “Potter, don’t you dare fucking touch yourself in front of this prissy prince wolf, or so help me, it will be a fucking month of ache, you little slut—and stop whining! Listen, Malfoy, I don’t know what the bitch sees in you, besides the fact that you’re species related. But as his fucking alpha, I have to make sure he’s not taken advantage of—”

“He’d fucking ride a house elf’s nose; everything is going to be up his hole. It’s hardly taking advantage,” Draco growled back, twisting Harry’s hand backwards and pinning it when the boy again reached for him.

“I’m talking about that sick fuck Dark Lord looking to kill the boy. The one your parents are fucking in league with. I’d have to be out of my fucking mind to let Harry anywhere near you.”

“Listen Lupin, I’m not my fucking parents. They don’t know what the hell I am, nor does their master. I have gotten very damn good at hiding it, which is why you couldn’t even tell. I am a fucking wolf, and I will not kneel to some halfblood, snake faced, crazy maniac that can only think of so much blood hate that he can’t pause to wonder why the fuck he was nearly killed by a god damn infant. A fucking infant could very literally beat him up—and did!”

Draco raked his free hand through his long, white-blond hair, glaring down at Harry’s rocking form with something more than anger. “Give me some fucking credit. When not begging for it, Potter is a powerful fucking force, and I’m betting on him and not the loser that couldn’t kill a baby. You know, if he’d ever fucking stop begging for it for five seconds.”

“He can’t help it,” Remus growled softer, surprised by Malfoy’s answer. “We’re working on it.”

Draco tore his eyes away from Harry’s gasping mouth, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t say there was anything bloody wrong about it. Fucking look at him. But he is a damn distraction… And I really need to get the fuck out of here.” He released Harry’s hand, turning to go, only to have Harry grab the back of his shirt and hold tightly.

“Come on, Malfoy… fucking do me…”

Draco half turned, wresting with the fingers gripping his crisp shirt. “No one likes a pushy bottom, Potter. You take all the fun out of it, you damn slut,” he snapped, bending Harry’s fingers back enough to release himself, but not hurt the boy. Harry looked back at him, eyes so wide and needy, he almost felt bad. Almost.

This time when he went to leave, Remus snarled and grabbed Draco by the back of the neck, holding the pale boy in place as he clawed at the heavy hand. “What? I didn’t fucking hurt him!”

“I am well the fuck aware, now shut up and hear me out.” Glaring at the Slytherin warningly, Remus turned down to Harry, snapping his fingers until the boy focused on him. “Where’s your collar?”

“Bag… there…” Harry pointed in the direction of where he had left his school things, head a red haze of want and nothing else. Remus accio’d it over and rummaged through while Draco scowled from beneath the unbreakable hold. Triumphant, he tossed the leather at Harry, who blinked at it a few times, before getting enough sense to wrap it around his neck and fasten it, the metal glinting dark black in the light.

Only to have the boy gasp a moment later, eyes wide, the scent of fear slowly rolling off Harry as he looked around confused. Sirius had designed it, the creatively deranged fuck, the collar imprinted with personality traits of right when Harry was first waking up as a bitch dog, and still full of shame and confusion, and lots of fight.

They had returned Harry’s memories slowly of the events that had woken him up, first having the boy see them from a pensieve to desensitize him a bit. His body fully awake, the memories seemed only to arouse Harry, and at the suggestion of the collar, he had readily agreed to try it, knowing this time he would not forget what happened once the collar was removed. It had made things very riveting for the two men, and Harry too, who remembered the incidences in his normal state of mind quite heatedly.

Draco stopped struggling, watching with interest as Harry groaned and rolled off the desk, crouching on the floor as he tried to get his shirt in some sort of order. “Sorry Professor… I don’t know what… I…” He appeared, standing slowly, hand tangled in his messy hair, face flushed with embarrassment. “Shit, and Malfoy too… I am so never living this down…” he covered his face with both hands, breathing out shakily.

“You werewolves are fucked up…” Draco whispered incredulously, just as Remus let him go so he could stalk forward and grab Harry around the waist, curving up the back of the dark haired boy and leaving Harry’s expression exposed to Draco’s blazing stare.

“Professor, what are you… oh god… stop…” Harry gasped, his wrists suddenly pinned in Remus’s large hand and pulled above his head, while Remus snaked his other hand down the front of Harry’s jeans, grabbing his straining erection.

“It’s okay, Harry… I just want to touch you a little,” Remus murmured in the boy’s ear, grinning when Harry shuddered and tried to throw him off.

“Get the fuck off me… you sick shit… oh god… oh…”

“Oh, come on… you know you want it…”

“N-no… fucking stop…”

“But you’re so hard, Harry… You can’t be so hard, unless you really want it… fucking slut…”

“No—oh hell.” Harry groaned in anguish, eyes squeezed shut as the hand moved from his cock to his fly, wrenching his pants and underwear down his legs. He was completely exposed to Draco’s very heated gaze as the gray eyed boy bit his thumb hard and continued to watch in silence.

“You know what else I think you want, slut?” Remus took his hand and ran it over Harry’s ass cheek, the boy jerking away from the touch. “I think you want a long, hard ride…”

“Please, no… don’t… it’s so wrong…” Harry shook his head fitfully while Remus pushed him over the desk, slamming his chest down into the hard wood.

“Wrong?” Remus breathed into his ear, pushing his bulge against the boy’s bare ass. “But you’re so hard, you little slut. Didn’t you know, this is how you like it?”

“No… stop… damn it—I’m going to fucking kill you!” Harry snarled beneath the hand on his head, eyes glaring even as his mouth opened wide and he moaned, fingers pushing into his tight hole. “Oh fuck… stop… that’s fucking dirty…”

“You’re fucking dirty, you filthy little slut. Look how hard you are with my fingers up your dirty little asshole. You want this… you want to be a filthy wide slut, opening whenever anyone asks…”

“No… god no… stop, Professor, please… whatever I did, I won’t do it again… promise… oh—oh fuck…”

“You seduced a wolf, little slut… You went begging to a wolf your own age, trying to get it into your hungry hole…”

“No… that’s fucking sick… Oh god… is that…?” Harry moaned, hips jerking forward as he opened his eyes to find Malfoy gone and a white wolf in the boy’s place, sleek and majestic, and currently licking his face. The long pink tongue kept whipping over his gasping lips, sliding into his mouth and tasting his tongue and roof of his mouth. Eyes closing slowly, Harry let it, his own tongue reaching hesitantly forward to meet the slippery intruder.

“That’s it, you fucking slut. You won’t just open for your teacher, but a fucking wild animal too. Talk about issues, Potter.”

Harry groaned, the tongue now moving over his face, down his throat, teeth tearing at his shirt and pulling it off him. “Oh fuck… I need help… there is something so… fucking… wrong with me…”

“I’m going to help you, Harry,” Remus murmured, biting the boy’s shoulder as he thrust his fingers in a final time. “And so is that prissy little wolf… Would you like that?”

Harry shook his head no, sweat dripping down his face as he struggled with the hands holding him down. “Stop… fucking stop… this is wrong…”

“You like it wrong, you little slut. This is the only way you like it… violated.. and forced… and begging for me to stop…” Remus slowly pulled down his zipper, watching Harry tense at the sound.

“Oh fuck… please don’t… please stop…” But Remus was over him now, the man’s deceptive form hiding steel strength as he grabbed Harry’s hips and pressed the head of his large cock to the boy’s twitching hole.

The white wolf gave a whine, biting at Harry’s ear, the boy crying out and inadvertently pushing back onto Remus’s thick dick. “N-no… stop… it hurts…”

“You fucking like it, you bitch slut… You fucking need it…” Remus growled, pushing forward, Harry’s cries only making him want to hurt him more. “Fuck, you get so fucking tight, pup… so fucking tight when you’re like this… still afraid… still ashamed of how fucking filthy you are… And you are filthy… so fucking filthy…”

Harry didn’t answer, gasping loud sobs and moans as Remus began to fuck him hard, driving him into the desk. “Noo… nooo…” he groaned, and then shuddered, the hot, long tongue back, finding his face, finding his mouth and tasting him so intimately, Harry couldn’t help but press towards it, even as his body was being torn apart and filled so good. God, he was so fucked up… so fucking wrong inside…

Harry stopped fighting, letting his body relax and give in to the searing, hard jolts of his teacher pounding into him. His head resting on the desk, he kept his eyes half open to stare through tears at the mouth and wicked teeth of the white creature before him. Harry reached a hand out, brushing fingers down the narrow jaw, curling slightly, pulling it closer so he could kiss it. He slid his tongue over the long, sharp teeth, tasting the wolf the way it had tasted him, sliding his tongue to reach and flutter against the roof of its mouth, and then the flat of its wide tongue.

“I’m so… fucking… sick…” Harry groaned again, and then kissed its nose, lapping across the black, wet point. Silver eyes regarded him intently, another soft, hungry whine meeting his ear. And then the tongue, sliding over Harry’s face, slower, languid, catching his sweat, tasting his tears, meeting his reaching tongue and tasting his mouth again. So slow… so sweetly… Harry wasn’t sure he had every known such sweetness.

“I think I preferred you… with dick in your mouth…” Remus grunted, glaring at the wolf kissing Harry, who intentionally ignored him. It was not going the way he had planned when getting Harry in the collar, having hoped to shock the damn prissy thing into something appropriately wild and unleashed. Growling, he grabbed the collar around Harry’s neck, undoing the clasp and throwing it aside. “Come on, pup, remind him how a fucking slut dog wants it.”

Harry moaned heatedly, pushing back against Remus’s hard body, trying to get some fucking leverage so he wasn’t flat on the desk. “Fuck, Remi… fucking do it hard… break me, you fucking monster…”

“That’s it, you fucking slut,” Remus growled approvingly, glaring down at the white wolf as he pulled Harry back and up, letting the boy rest his palms on the desk as he slammed into him, nearly toppling the pup forward. “I’m going to make you so fucking raw, every time you go to get your hole filled you’re going to fucking scream in pain.”

“Yes… oh fuck… do it…” Harry gasped, hands reaching above to grab onto Remus’s neck and head as the boy bent backwards, body stretched out long and taut. “You know… how I need it…”

“I do, you little bitch slut… hard… until you can’t stand it anymore…”

“Fuck… fucking fill me… need the wet so bad…”

Remus grunted, pulling Harry back and lifting the boy so his feet were no longer touching the ground. He pushed the boy’s knees to the desk and bent him over, Harry’s thighs wide to get the perfect height. Snarling possessively, he buried himself in deep a final time, giving hard, shallow thrusts as he filled Harry with some much needed filth. The boy howled in aching joy, forehead heavy on the desk, sweat covering his face as he gasped.

Remus ran his hand shakily over Harry’s stomach and groin, finding at some point during the hard reaming the boy had cum, his climax lost in the whirlwind of it all. “That’s it, love… that’s how you fucking like it… Nice and wet inside… full of cum and filth…”

“Yes…” Harry agreed softly, rubbing his face into the table, sweat making his movements slick. “Thank you, alpha… it was… so fucking good… what I needed…”

Remus stayed buried inside, filling Harry as long as the boy wanted it, while his golden eyes glared again to the silent pain in the ass watching from his furry seat.

As a wolf, Malfoy was a little less annoying, body nearly as large as Padfoot’s heavy form, but more narrow, its muscles compact, and silky bright fur much better cared for. The eyes were an intense silver instead of the beautiful manic blue of Remus’s lovely mate. But the eyes weren’t looking at Remus, they were staring at the panting boy crushed beneath his larger body, and there was definitely more than just lust in the creature’s gaze.

Fucking pups… fucking sweet pups, falling for things they shouldn’t even want… Harry was a damn wild mutt, and the wolf just talked shit and couldn’t follow through, too sweet and domestic to take what he wanted properly. He just wasn’t fucking good enough for his Harry.

Harry gave a whine when Remus withdrew, trying to push back and impale himself again. “Fuck… don’t stop yet… need it…”

Remus sighed, reaching down and picking up the collar he had thrown on the floor, slamming it down next to Harry. “You are fucking exhausting, pup. Let the wolf have a go so I can rest.”

Harry looked back, beautiful green eyes wide in surprise. “For real?”

“This one fucking time,” Remus cautioned, growling at the both of them. “I don’t know when Siri will be back, and fuck, Harry, I’m not twenty anymore… If the prissy thing can bear to be second to my foul scent.” He turned his glare to the wolf, stalking over intimidatingly.

“Don’t get too full of yourself. The boy just really needs filling. And the collar is his choice. Anyone ever forces it on him, I will kill them, understand? It’s not something to be abused, ever.”

“He gets it Remus. Stop mothering,” Harry muttered, grabbing the collar and wrapping it around his neck. He paused before clasping it and activating the spell, eyes glancing carefully to Draco’s wolf form and assessing him long moments.

Harry bit his lip, smiling shyly, so shyly Remus wanted to break something. “So, uh, Malfoy… would you… um, stay like that? Just for this… I uh… fuck… I like it… a lot…” He was mumbling, cheeks red, and Remus wondered if the collar was a damn good idea when Harry was already so syrupy in mood.

Swearing under his breath, Remus stepped up to Harry, pecking the boy lightly on the lips. “I’ll be right outside. I’ll be listening if you need—”

“You’re henning,” Harry growled, lightly pushing him away with a small smile.

Remus growled back. So what if he was henning? Harry was his pup, and he would fucking protect him all he liked. Glaring a final time at the white wolf nuisance, Remus gave himself a once over to make sure he was presentable and left the room, locking the door behind him.

SCENE #Harry makes a friend

Eyes fluttering open slowly, Harry softly hummed, something warm and wet licking down his neck around the leather dog collar he was wearing. Fur tickled lightly against his shoulders, and then his arm, and he became aware of warm heat very close to his skin next to the softness. He stretched, brow furrowed, trying to figure out why he was lying on what appeared to be Professor Lupin’s desk… without any clothes on.

Shifting, he groaned, his body revealing aches and pains everywhere, especially, oh no… oh… not there again. Harry whimpered, lips parting to pant, his hole sore and dripping again. God, how did he keep waking up, full of so much dirtiness and couldn’t remember how it happened? It had to happened, he knew it did, but he just could never remember.

“Hey… what are you…?” Harry blinked to the side, white fluff greeting his vision. He pushed himself up on his elbows, meeting beautiful silver eyes and a regal face of a white wolf. “Wow… you’re something…” Harry murmured, hand drifting in offering to the lovely creature, wondering how it could have come to be in Lupin’s classroom. It was too pretty to be a werewolf. Maybe the Professor was teaching a class on how they differed from real wolves.

The wolf gave a soft whine, licking Harry’s hand and making him giggle at the feel of tongue between his fingers. The pretty thing didn’t stop, licking at his digits while Harry beamed. Then suddenly it nipped lightly at his fingertip and Harry gave a small gasp, eyes half closing, a familiar, terrible ache rising up in him again. “Oh… oh no… not again…” He whispered softly, fingers curling around the narrow snout lightly, his entire body suddenly feeling hot and very much in need.

As if sensing Harry wasn’t well, the wolf leaned its upper body on the desk, licking the boy’s face comfortingly, as if trying to cool him off. But it wasn’t the right effect, Harry moaning at the feel of hot, wet tongue moving over his skin, small shudders starting to rock his body.

“Sorry… sorry… I get like this sometimes… there’s, oh god, there’s something wrong inside me…” The tongue was in his mouth now, and Harry couldn’t find the power to pull away, allowing the beautiful thing to lap at his lips and tongue while Harry sank back down to the desk, face towards the ceiling.

“You shouldn’t… oh, you shouldn’t do that, boy… It’s not right…” Harry whispered, body tingling all over as the wolf moved forward, leaning past his mouth to lick down his throat and chest, his vision filled with soft white fur. “Oh fuck—wait… that’s… that’s not right…” Harry groaned, but the tongue persisted, licking at his nipple while he squirmed. It moved further down, long tongue lapping across his navel, heavy body pressing against Harry’s head and shoulders and filling Harry with heat.

“Wait, oh god… stop…” Harry whimpered, his bellybutton abandoned by the wolf for his quickly rising prick. Harry was unable to see past the blur of white but still very able to feel when the hot tongue lapped slow, long strokes over him.
With a small growl, the wolf was suddenly on the desk, claws clicking while he crouched over him as he licked down Harry’s aching cock and balls. Harry was certain now that it was a male, because beyond the heavy smell of musk, Harry could see its arousal, shiny red rising from it’s furry sheath above him. So close, bobbing next to Harry’s face, he could smell it… could feel splatters of wet dripping precum falling on his face and neck.

Harry closed his eyes, tried to block out the sight of the large, shiny dick. It looked so god damn needy, almost as needy as Harry felt all the time, the ache in him growing. He just couldn’t help himself, Harry consoled his twisting stomach and the persistent voice that kept insisting that this was very fucking wrong, and he shouldn’t ever even think such terrible, sick things.

The tongue felt so good moving over him, licking him slowly, thoroughly, as if trying to clean all the dirtiness off that Harry felt. But the dirt was deep inside and that tongue would never be able to reach.

When Harry opened his eyes back up, it was still there, still swollen, dripping and wet, still calling him to be fucking sick and depraved, and give in to the ache. “Oh god… oh my god, I am so fucked…” Harry whimpered, watching his hand seem to move on its own accord, reaching for the red, hard head of the wolf’s dick, and brushing his fingertip against it.

The wolf made a whining noise, nose burrowing down between Harry’s thighs and lapping at the slick that was dripping out of him. It hadn’t growled in warning, hadn’t snapped in violence, and Harry, eyes half closed, moved his head closer to the bobbing rod, reaching his tongue out and pressing it to the hot flesh while fur brushed his cheeks.

“Shit… holy shit…” he murmured excitedly, pressing his lips to the flesh and then opening up, running his tongue up and down, and wherever he could reach. He wrapped his arms around the strong waist of the soft wolf, feeling muscles tense under his fingers, and pulled himself up, tilting his head as far back as he could reach, just enough so he could get the tip past his nose and into his mouth. Flavor and scent flooded his senses, and Harry groaned, mouth widening as the hard flesh spasmed and dripped more precum onto his tongue. He wrapped his lips tight, careful of his teeth, and just savored the feel of the hot thick flesh as it moved in his mouth.

“I am so fucked up…” Harry whispered after releasing his hot prize and sinking back down to the desk, troubled thoughts swirling in his mind. He didn’t let go of the pretty wolf, hands threading through its fur and combing as the creature insisted on licking and cleaning him.

It was an animal… a fucking wild wolf animal… It was already licking Harry in places you weren’t supposed to lick people. Maybe if Harry was just an animal it wouldn’t feel so fucked up to want what he wanted. God, because he wanted it. He wanted the shiny red flesh inside him, filling him, and he wanted it so bad. Animals didn’t care if things were fucking dirty and wrong. Nothing was wrong to a wolf, it was just fucking nature.

If Harry spread his thighs, bent himself over the desk, and let the pretty wolf take him, the wolf wasn’t going to judge him for it. It understood, and that’s why it was just as hard as him. God, and if Harry decided he really, really liked what that wolf was doing to him, and begged him to keep doing it, to keep fucking taking him, for as long as he needed it, maybe the wolf wouldn’t mind that either.

Feeling braver, body tingling and hot with want, Harry wiggled around the persistent tongue, turning himself carefully, elbows biting into the desk, knees scraping as he flipped from his back to his stomach while still between the large wolf’s legs. Hands again reaching around the strong waist, he raised his head, opening his mouth and eagerly swallowing the hard, thick flesh of the wolf down.

The wolf made a grunting noise, probably as surprised as Harry was at his daring. But no growling, no snapping or bitting, so Harry let it fade from his mind, his only thoughts on the hot thick flesh spurting wet, bitter precum into his mouth. “You like that…?” Harry asked, letting the tip fall from his mouth, rubbing his face against it, and then his lips, his eyes closing to feel another hot splatter hit his face.

From what Harry had seen of dogs, they were always humping frantically, but this wolf was nearly still, moving almost deliberately in slow pushes as Harry again wrapped lips around its length and sucked.

Harry moaned around the thick dick, nearly dropping it as a persistent nose pressed against his ass crack, tongue sliding out to lick the flesh revealed. Panting, his own tongue lapping in rhythm to the wolf’s, Harry tried to spread his legs wider to get more of the hot tongue that was trying to press against his hole. Oh, in his hole, definitely inside him. Harry fell back to the table, moaning loudly, hips bucking as he pushed back, trying to get more. “Oh fuck… oh please… oh that’s fucking messed up… and so good…”

Harry just couldn’t seem to stop the heat rising up inside, or the terrible, desperate thought the heat demanded from him. Shaking, he raised his head, glancing behind him to watch the beast lick at his hole. He really wanted that swollen, red cock inside him, not just the slippery tongue.

“Hey boy… hey pretty, pretty wolfie,” Harry called softly, dark lashes lowered as he rocked his hips slowly back into the press of tongue and fur. “God… can you just… oh, help me a bit? I… I don’t think you’ll mind… Fuck, maybe you would… what the fuck is wrong with me…?” Whimpering, he hid his face into his hands. “I’m so fucked in the head.”

The hot tongue was suddenly at his face, licking at his forehead, nose brushing his hair and puffing warm breath. Sighing, Harry lifted his head, eyes opening to find silver staring him down. There seemed to be such intelligence there, not to mention compassion… “Hi, pretty wolf… You really are very pretty… I don’t know how one could be quite like you, but maybe that’s what magic does to things… makes everything seem special…”

The wolf tilted its head, and then licked its pink tongue out across Harry’s parted lips. Harry gasped, eyes wide. The tongue flicked out again, Harry stilling as it moved up his top lip. “Are you… oh… that’s like a kiss…” Harry murmured, mouth widening when the tongue swiped again and pressed bristling maw to his lips. “I’m a little… messed up,” Harry confided. “But… but I really like that… Maybe…” Harry let out a shattered breath as his mouth was licked again. “Oh, maybe you like that too?”

The wolf certainly seemed to, tongue driving into Harry’s parted lips with obvious intent, tasting him slow and thoroughly. Harry closed his eyes, trying not to think where the creature had just been licking, and how hot and dirty that made him feel. He pressed back, mouth opening wider, licking up the wolf’s maw, tongue touching short bristle and slick gums. He pressed his tongue flat against the sharp, white teeth, hard enamel and then scalding heat as he reached the other side of the barrier.

“Oh… I hope you like that too…” Harry whispered, trembling at the mad, dangerous feeling running through him, tasting teeth and tongue of something wild and crazed, just how he felt inside. Harry sat up, eyes never leaving the face of the noble looking wolf panting at him. He held his arms open, the wolf stepping forward, pressing into his chest with soft fur and hard muscle, licking up the side of Harry’s neck while the boy held the warm body to him.

“That’s nice…” Harry sighed, rubbing slowly against the silky fur. “Almost like… fuck… like you want me back…” Teeth nipped him lightly and Harry groaned, fire sparking through him. He gripped the shoulders he was holding harder, another nip jerking his entire body with fire and surprise. “Oh fuck… again, pretty wolf… hell yes…”

Harry had to accept the fact the wolf was definitely responding to him, and in a blatantly sexual manner, or keep wondering if he was losing his mind. He had never thought a wolf, or any animal for that matter, was understanding of something quite on this level, but Harry was pretty sure the beautiful thing wanted to make love to him, as bizarre a thought as that was.

As much as Harry ached inside, he really didn’t mind the softness, the gentle yet persistent way the wolf pushed him down with its large bulk onto the desk. He rather liked the long, wet laps over his face, and throat, mixed with sharp little nips that sent him gasping and whimpering, begging for the next one to come. “Oh… oh please… yes…” Harry mumbled, head rolling on the desk as the wolf laid across him, hot and silky against Harry’s entire body, hard length rubbing next to the boy’s in small rocking thrusts.

Harry wrapped his arms tight around the wolf’s neck, burying his face into the white fur as more hot, wet slickness collected around where the hard cock was slowly humping him. It felt so good, so good against his exposed flesh, fur brushing and tickling and driving him mad, while teeth kept nipping into his neck, and then long tongue soothing.

“Oh… oh god…” Harry spread his legs, raising his knees and welcoming the harder pushes from the furry hips rocking into him. It was good, so good… but Harry needed more, his hole aching intensely at the idea of that hard red tip and its wetness buried inside him. He wrapped his legs around the beast’s waist, reveling in the feel of its fur on his long limbs and thighs, and wiggled up its body until Harry was better positioned for that hot dick to bury into him.

“Come on, Wolfie…” Harry murmured, pulling the angular face down and kissing across its long snout, the slippery pink tongue moving over Harry’s chin and throat. “Need you… need you now… it’s so empty inside…”

The wolf made a low growl, Harry’s eyes widening at the sound. But its licks were still gentle, nips still light and not vicious, and Harry imagined maybe that was more of a noise of need than of threat. Harry shifted his hips, reaching his hand down to grasp the hard wolf cock and guide it to his entrance, eyes closing as it pressed against his hole and held there.

“Please… fuck, please…” Harry whimpered, unable to move himself the way he needed to drive it in him. The wolf gave another soft growl, and then suddenly surged forward, burying itself in deep.

Harry shouted, the world bursting white and red behind his eyes, the creature’s self control gone, now deep inside his dripping, and battered hole. The wolf raised itself up and began to hammer into him. Harry’s thighs and knees gripped tightly for purchase, head and shoulders falling back onto the desk heavily as his weak arms grasped uselessly at the strong neck above him.

“Oh god… oh god… it’s big… so fucking big…” he moaned, mouth gasping wide and unable to block the tongue suddenly dipping into it, nearly choking with its intensity. “Oh please… god, it’s huge… oh—!” He sobbed, the feeling just too intense, too fucking much, forcing inside him, moving across his tightening passage as his body clenched, trying to pull the thickness in deeper.

The wolf started licking at his tears, even as it drove harder into him, pushing Harry up the desk with the force of its thrusts, until Harry was half hanging over the edge, head slack and bent backwards while papers strewn and fell around him.

Harry pushed at the wolf’s shoulders, unable to raise his head. “Wolfie… gonna fall…” The wolf gave a desperate whine, licking up Harry’s throat, then stilled its mad thrusts with a show of amazing restraint. Limbs shaking, Harry unwrapped from the beautiful wolf, moaning at the feel of its thick dick leaving his hole, and the wet that was already building there.

Harry lowered himself to the ground, bracing himself against the side of the desk while on his knees. “Come on, you pretty thing… you know what to do… you know how to fill me…” Harry called heatedly, eyes hazy as he pressed his cheek to the cool wood and waited for his furry new friend.

The wolf jumped down like a white shadow, moving behind Harry, and lapping long, deep swipes into his dripping hole, until Harry was moaning and spreading wider, trying to get even more. The wolf raised itself up Harry’s back, wrapping front legs around the boy’s narrow chest, surrounding him in silky white fur and hard heat. “Oh god… do it, beautiful… fucking take me… want you so bad…”

Teeth nipped into Harry’s shoulder, sharper than before, causing him to cry out, and then the wolf was thrusting in, pushing in roughly, able to reach so much deeper, each thrust so much more powerful now that Harry was braced and offering resistance. “Oh fuck—bigger… it’s bigger…” He gaped, his hole being forced wider as something large swelled at the base of the wolf’s dick. Each thrust pushed it deeper, opened him wider, and Harry was fairly certain he was not going to survive the sheer size.

“Oh god… oh god…” He gasped, gripping the desk, nose crunched against the side with sweat pouring down his face and fur tickling his back and chest as he tried so hard not to scream in agony. The knot slipped past his last tight muscle and settled into his ass, still fucking swelling wider. It was stuck inside, each jolt of the wolf’s hips moving Harry’s hips, the knot keeping them tied tight, and secure, and so full of the feeling of delicious agony that came with such fullness.

Eyes squeezed shut, Harry rocked with the thrusts, moaning lowly with every breath released. “So good… so tight… god… it feels so right… so fucking right, deep inside me… oh Wolfie… you need to stay… need to stay in me… fuck yes… so full, so right… Wolfie, you make me feel… so right…”

Huffing hot air on his neck, the wolf licked over Harry’s collared throat and face as it continued to pump hard into the small boy.

Harry moaned louder, eyes flying open as hot, slick streams of cum began to fill him inside. “Yes… yes… so wet… god… god… like you’re washing inside… Oh god…” It didn’t stop, each hard thrust filling Harry more, giving him more wet heat until he wasn’t sure that he wasn’t filled head to toe with the wolf’s hot cum. Head spinning from the very idea, Harry bucked, clutching around the thickness inside, grinding down on it and coming hard, all over the desk and floor as it dripped down.

God, and he didn’t fucking care that it was so dirty to do that, to get his cum on things and furniture. It didn’t feel dirty, not with the beautiful white wolf inside him, wanting him so much, somehow so gentle… like maybe it really fucking cared about him.

Harry leaned his head forward on the desk, tears streaming silently down his face as he embraced every sensation of soft fur and hard dick. He didn’t care that it was fucked up to like it, or that it was fucked up to want a damn beast to care for him the way a person should. Right now, in that moment, it felt so fucking right.

“Wolfie… oh, you’re good at this… so fucking good… make me feel good, you pretty thing… Ah, stay in a long time… I want you inside a really long time…”

Harry pushed back, the wolf still tight inside, moving the two of them carefully so that Harry could fold forward and rest his head on his arms, ass high in the air. He moaned softly with each thrust, body feeling so good, and long and tight as the beast fucked him, and filled him, and claimed him. “God… you feel so good inside…” Harry murmured, eyes closing.

The wolf began to lick at Harry as he quieted, and then gave soft little nips, until Harry roused again and began to pant, legs spreading wider. “Oh, Wolfie… you can’t have anything left to put in me,” Harry whispered, even as the wolf continued to pound into him more insistently, Harry’s hole tightening and clenching with renewed attention.

“Oh hell… oh wow, how are you… wow…” Harry’s eyes widened, more nips and tongue and sharp thrusts slowly building the fire inside him back up. He raised himself up on his arms, pushing back into each quick thrust, channel clenching again and again as the lovely creature brought him closer to agony and ecstasy all at once. This was a damn good wolf… fucking amazing wolf…

Harry was pretty sure he wanted to keep the pretty white thing forever.

SCENE #A tense agreement

It was a good two hours before Remus returned, finding Harry passed out, absolutely sated on the floor, Malfoy wrapped around him, human and just as nude. Remus had stopped by the door from time to time, checking with his status spells to make sure Harry was okay, seeing and hearing quite clearly that he was enjoying himself, if in a different, quieter way than normal.

Draco had only taken Harry as a wolf, and hadn’t been till the last moment, when Harry was having god only knew up to which orgasm the boy was capable of reaching when in such crazed heat, when the wolf had accidentally gotten its paw stuck in the leather, and the collar had released before it could hurt Harry. Harry had decided to pass out for good shortly after that, and Draco had decided he didn’t need to be furry any longer, and curled up next to the dark haired boy.

Draco snapped awake the moment Remus stepped into the room, suppressing the growl he very much wanted to release at the scent of a werewolf. Especially the werewolf associated with the beautiful green eyed boy Draco just couldn’t seem to stop thinking about. Instead he sat up, combing his hair in place with his fingers, and started reaching for the clothes he had stripped after transforming back. Pressing skin to skin with Harry had been worth the mild embarrassment of being nude in front of his professor.

For the moment, all Remus could feel was relieved that Harry was actually asleep and exhausted. That Malfoy didn’t seem too worn for wear was also a bit interesting, but then, he was still a young wolf, and hadn’t allowed himself to grow soft yet living a human’s life. Ignoring the pale Slytherin for now, Remus went to the sleeping Harry, checking him over carefully for any sign of problems. He raised a brow, Harry cleaner after hours of sex than before, the wolf having licked him thoroughly as he slept.

“You should have left him some of the bruises,” Remus said with a sigh, straightening to watch Draco button his shirt up. “He likes the reminder of it. Helps him hold over until he can be filled again.”

Draco shrugged, eyes pensive and mouth set in a thin frown. “Your bitch has issues, Lupin. You should burn that fucking collar and get him some help.”

Remus snorted, glaring at the arrogant sod. “What, because he likes dog dick?”

Draco shook his head, eyes darkening. “No, because he kept fucking crying every time I was sweet to him. I thought maybe you were just a brutal fuck for taking him the way you do, but now I just wonder if you were just avoiding him getting sad.”

“The only time that pup cries is when it’s forced on him, Malfoy,” Remus growled, not appreciating the insinuation that Harry was broken in such a way. “And believe me, he fucking enjoys every moment of it. You’re just some bleeding heart wolf that doesn’t know shit yet. He’s fine, and getting better each day.”

“Whatever, Lupin, it’s not my fucking problem. You’re his alpha, and if you want to ignore his huge fucking emotional scars, then who the fuck am I to stop you? I just thought he was a human that turned into a dog, not the other way around like you treat him.” Shirt tucked back in place, and shoes and socks back on feet, Draco went to leave, his eyes flashing unspoken anger.

Remus refused to unlock the door, waiting for the pale boy to turn back in irritation. “Are you willing, if he’s in need again?” The man asked, thinking of Harry at the moment and not his own damn annoyance with the Slytherin pain.

Draco looked torn, eyes swirling clouds, mouth twitching into a deeper frown. “Probably… If he’s still interested after today,” he finally answered, turning and waiting until Remus spelled the door open so he could leave.

Glaring at the now empty doorway, Remus brooded. The stupid white pup was clearly in love with Harry, or damn near on his way, and likely more god damn trouble than worth it. And Harry… well Harry was just so fucking soft about the Malfoy boy, wasn’t he? All syrup and blushes, it was damn near disgraceful. But he was asleep, and sated, and Remus didn’t even have to clean the boy—although he would do some, just to get the fucking white wolf’s scent off his pup.

The prat had been respectful, likely out of a lack of balls than a desire to be kind, but still, Remus was less worried about Harry spending time with the boy… except for all that blushing softness. He needed Harry to be tough and less open to such vulnerabilities. The domestic little white wolf couldn’t protect Harry if they were alone, so Harry needed to be able to protect himself. Which meant toughening up still.

Shaking his head, Remus scooped Harry up, tucking long thin limbs and messy dark hair into some sort of order. Remus would take Harry for a hunt that weekend, and see if that helped get the boy on track.

SCENE #Trying to trick a wolf

Harry had avoided Draco Malfoy for days after having woken up without the collar and remembering how the white wolf was really the pale boy in animagus form. He wasn’t quite sure why he was avoiding Draco, especially since Remus had finally given Harry the go ahead to approach him when in need. Every time Harry caught sight of the boy, be it during a meal in the Great Hall, or while trying to not stare at him in potions, Harry’s stomach twisted up and he felt unbearably uncomfortable.

He didn’t want to be embarrassed by how he had behaved with the white wolf, and Harry knew, fucked up as it was, it was not the very sick and depraved things he had so readily done that he was embarrassed about when he caught sight of Draco. No, it was the way it had been so different, so fucking gentle, and caring, and every time Harry let himself think of that, a part of him just felt like it was breaking.

Harry did not enjoy the feeling. He had been happy to finally get ahead of a lot of the confusing, sick feelings that used to plague him about his sexuality. He did not want to add silent tears and strange, delicious softness to the list of things that fucked him up with the sex his body so eagerly craved and desperately needed. Harry decided that the only way around this problem was to get Malfoy to be just as rough and careless as Sirius and Remus always were when filling him. The sweetness was just too difficult to bear.

Harry started stalking the pale boy down. He would catch Draco in corridors and drag him into empty classrooms, pull the boy’s pants down and suck him off in desperate, dirty ways until the Slytherin would use his own nasty mouth to encourage his efforts. Harry kept stalking the boy, kept catching him, until Draco was waiting for him, slamming him into the classroom door instead, pushing Harry down to his knees and fucking his mouth the way he had showed the boy. And then, Harry wasn’t stalking Draco anymore at all, it was the wolf following him around, the pale boy growling lowly before he struck, until Harry found he spent most of his days looking around, wondering when Draco would hunt him down and take his mouth and hopefully, the rest of him.

Malfoy kept hesitating, as if it was a line just too messed up to cross. Harry couldn’t understand it, having crossed far worse lines with much less trepidation. But Malfoy wouldn’t fuck him no matter how much Harry needed it. It wasn’t until a quiet Friday night, when Harry decided he’d had enough and was going to trick the boy, that he found out why.

SCENE #A giant miscalculation

Draco was walking back from dinner, dressed casually for a change, hands in his pockets as he kicked a small rock down the hall. He caught Harry’s scent before he saw the boy, green eyes peering up through messy fringe, the damn bother waiting in the doorway of an empty room. Potter had that fucked up smile on his face, mildly deranged and all god damn anticipation.

Draco knew he should have just kept walking, should have ignored the slut and gone back to his dorm and finished his homework. Potter made him crazy, plain and simple. He was gorgeous and sexy and so fucked in the head that Draco just lost himself, even when he always felt like shit for it later. Potter wanted weird, fucked up shit, and Draco didn’t, and he knew he never would.

Glancing around to see if they were alone, Harry pushed himself from the doorway, looking Draco over heatedly as he approached. “Hey Malfoy,” Harry whispered, mouth moving over Draco’s earlobe. “You feel like reminding me what that pack of street dogs should do to me? You say it just so nicely…”

Draco glared; the boy was seriously fucked and made Draco regret every god damn mean thing that ever came out of his mouth. Yet, it also seemed to make him damn meaner about it at the same time. “Why don’t you go ask your alpha? I’m sure he and the dog would be happy to show you first hand.”

“Oh, don’t be that way.” Harry licked up the side of Draco’s throat, slipping a hand down the front of the pale boy’s body until reaching his jeans waistband. “I was hoping you might want to show me… and then, maybe the pretty wolf, too…”

Draco inwardly cringed. The wolf was not exactly pleased at the idea. Harry gave off all the right scents and noises that screamed ‘fuck me’ to the simple creature, but other things about Harry, specifically the very deranged, fucked up behavior when he wasn’t wearing the collar, made the wolf think that avoiding the boy all together was the best course of action. Something Draco had been thinking as well, even if he had been having a lot of difficulty following through.

“I don’t have time for the wolf tonight, Potter. I need to study, and once it knots it’s at least an hour,” Draco muttered, trying to extract from the hands currently pulling him towards the empty classroom.

“Mmm… I remember…” Harry said with a lazy smile, managing to get Draco to the other side of the door and closing it behind them. He pulled Draco’s shirt up, running hands over the boy’s back and sides. “How about… just you then? I have been swallowing that long cock of yours for days now, and I would really like to see what you do with it.”

Draco inhaled sharply, one of Harry’s hands somehow past his fly already and wrapping fingers around his hardening length. “Potter… you won’t like how I fuck.”

“Sure I will,” Harry said, eyes alight as he watched Draco’s face and slowly jerked the boy through his pants. “As long as it’s in my ass, you really can’t go wrong.” Harry stepped back, pulling his t-shirt up over his head and throwing it to the ground, followed quickly with his glasses.

As certain as he was that Harry thought that was true, Draco knew that it wasn’t. He had seen Remus go very fucking wrong with the boy while wearing that damn collar, and seeing how Harry really seemed to be looking for similar, Draco had little interest in it. “I’m not a werewolf, or some hardened criminal that spent years in jail. I’m not going to fuck you like them, Potter. I just don’t want to.”

“Then fuck me how you want to,” Harry said with an unconcerned shrug, kicking his shoes off. “Promise, I won’t complain.”

Harry’s jeans were off and Draco was having some difficulty concentrating with the slender, nearly nude boy standing shamelessly in front of him. Was Potter ever not achingly hard? He watched Harry pull his underwear down, impish green eyes catching his as he straightened, that damn deranged grin back. Then Harry was walking around him, hands brushing over Draco’s bulging jeans, before the boy settled on the closed classroom door. Bracing his arms and resting his forehead on the wood, Harry spread his legs wide in offering.

Draco would quite literally have to go through Potter if he wanted to leave, and looking at him, it didn’t seem like a bad compromise at the moment.

Eyes locked on the light toned muscles and soft pale skin of Harry’s form, Draco pulled his own clothes off distractedly.

He could hear Potter panting, see his fingers flex in anticipation, and see sweat just starting to gather at the base of his neck. He reeked of sex, more so with his pants off and loins and glands exposed to spread the scent further. He was also surprisingly free of the foul werewolf scent, something Draco was relieved for. Harry currently had no bruises, and Draco would like to keep it that way.

Harry jerked at the first touch as if expecting it to hurt, Draco’s hand moving over the boy’s shoulder blades softly, and then down, caressing his lower back firmly. Draco wrapped his other arm around Harry’s waist, curling up against the smaller boy’s back with his body, sinking in to the feel of skin on skin. He kissed Harry’s neck, the other shifting away from the soft touch, green eyes peering back at him.

“Come on, Malfoy, put it in me first. I’m fucking dying here.” Groaning, Harry rocked his hips back, trying to impale himself on Draco. Rolling his eyes, Draco slid his hand over Harry’s ass, seeking out his entrance with his fingers.

Harry growled, glaring back at Draco this time. “Don’t fucking bother. Can’t you smell how much I need this? Fuck me.”

“Damn it,” Draco cursed softly, grabbing Harry’s sharp hips, and pushing forward. He tried to go slow, tried to give the boy time to fucking adjust, and not have his damn hot tightness snap Draco in two. But Harry was pushing back desperately, making needy, aching noises of pleasure as Draco plunged into his unstretched hole.

“Oh god… oh god, Malfoy… That’s it… fuck… take me hard…”

“Potter, you said I could fuck you how I wanted to.” Draco growled, opening his eyes to glare at the bowed neck before him. A familiar leather collar was hanging off of Harry’s neck, the boy moments away from clasping it shut. “You fucking—Potter, don’t you dare!”

Harry laughed, demented and taunting, clicking the clasp in place and activating the spell.

The fucking sick ass, deranged mutt, needing another god damn rape fantasy and dragging Draco along for the nightmare. Draco had only a moment to get a huff of ‘I told you so’ from his inner wolf, before Harry swayed, confusion, pain, and fear taking the boy’s body.

Stilling, Draco listened to Harry’s breath change, the small pants of desire turning into quick, terrified gasps for air.

“It’s okay… hush… it’s okay…” Draco murmured into the boy’s neck, having no fucking interest in feeding Harry’s god damn psychosis. “Did you forget again, Harry? Forget where you are… what you’re doing?”

“Oh god, it hurts… please… please take it out…” Harry whimpered, tears slipping down his face. Draco snarled inwardly, so fucking angry at the other version of Harry for ever putting him in this situation—for ever fucking thinking that he would even be into raping the boy. It was the fucking werewolf’s fault, and Black’s too, and Draco was very much ready to make everyone pay for it.

Focusing on the gasping boy in front of him, Draco ran his hands comfortingly up and down his arms. “I’m going to pull it out… tell me if it hurts and I’ll go slower, okay?”

Harry nodded dumbly, then squeaked when Draco started to withdraw. “No—stop—don’t move… I was wrong, don’t move—it’s so much worse…” he choked out, eyes squeezed shut.

“It’s okay… focus on my voice, okay? Just listen to what I’m saying and what my hands are doing, and let your body relax.” Draco kissed the back of the boy’s neck again, running palms over his arms and sides soothingly and doing everything he could to not move and jolt the boy.

Harry’s breathing started to slow, teary green eyes peeking back at him hesitantly. “Malfoy? What… are we…?”

“It’s Draco, Harry. You forget sometimes.” Draco gently wiped the boy’s wet cheeks, his heart breaking at the lost expression on his beautiful face. “But that’s okay. I don’t mind… just relax… and we can stop…”

Harry stared at him, licking his lips thoughtfully. “So you… you like me?”

Wincing inwardly at the absolute vulnerable rawness of the statement, Draco gave a slow nod. “Of course I like you. You don’t do this with someone you don’t like. I like you a lot, Harry.”

“Oh…” A small shudder went through the boy, and suddenly Harry was calmer, head leaning back against Draco’s shoulder, green eyes peering up curiously. “So… I just forgot…?”

“Yes. It happens sometimes,” Draco assured him, watching the boy’s face carefully.

“So… when I wake up sometimes, all bruised…”

Draco shook his head, biting his lip. “No, Harry. I don’t bruise you… I would never hurt you that way…” Harry’s eyes lost focus, dark thoughts swirling in the green depths. “But that’s okay, too. You… uh, you like those friends… and you ask them to do that sometimes…”

Harry blinked back to him, brows furrowed. “I do?”

“That’s what you told me,” Draco said, as truthful as he was willing to be in the situation. “How do you feel right now? Does it still hurt?”

Eyes drifting away, Harry paused. “It feels… it feels…” He trailed off, swallowing hard as he clenched around Draco. “Draco, you’re inside me.” Harry breathed out shakily, making small gasps.

Draco ran fingers down the side of Harry’s sweating face, waiting for the boy to glance back at him. “Is that okay?” He asked, watching Harry closely.

“I… I think it is…” Harry whispered, dark lashes sweeping down. “My uncle told me that it was wrong, unnatural… two men together… But… but it doesn’t feel wrong. Not with you.”

Not sure what to say to that, besides how much he hated his uncle and any man that would make this feel wrong to Harry, Draco leaned forward and kissed the boy’s cheek. “Are you ready to try again?”

“Um, you mean…?”

“To pull out,” Draco added, a small smile forming at Harry’s disappointed look. “You said it hurt a lot.”

“I know… but it feels better now… kind of.” Harry shut his eyes, another shaky breath escaping him and another hard clench. “You feel good inside, even if it hurts a little.”

Breathing deeply, Draco secured his arms around Harry’s chest, holding the boy tight to him and burying his face into his neck. “How about you move the way you want? That way you can tell if it’s too much.”

“Okay…” Eyes falling shut, Harry slowly rocked his hips forward, gasping at the feel of Draco receding slightly within him. “Oh… oh hell…”

“You okay?” Draco asked, slipping his eyes open to watch Harry gape.

“It’s intense… so much…”

“Sorry.” Draco kissed the boy’s neck again, sighing as Harry pushed back into his hips, burying him deep inside again.

“God… no, it’s good… very good…” He said with a whimper, hips again rocking forward, and causing Harry to moan lowly.

Draco breathed deep, trying to keep himself in control. The small gasps and murmurs, so sweet and earnest from Harry lips, were driving him wild. He held himself as still as possible while Harry slowly rode him. Draco was losing though, finding his hips pressing forward when Harry pushed back, which made Harry groan excitedly and only undo Draco’s control more.

“Draco… please… I need… I need…” Mumbling, Harry leaned his head against the door, face turned to the side as he panted. Draco bent forward, running fingers through the boy’s sweaty tangle of hair and kissing his shoulder.

“What do you need, Harry?” He asked, fairly certain he knew the answer already.

“Need you… please…” Harry whispered, eyes seeking his.

“Okay… you tell me if you want me to stop…” Lips brushing against the boy’s ear for a lingering moment, Draco shifted, grasping Harry’s hips and slowly thrusting into the aching boy.

Harry moaned, loudly gasping each time Draco settled inside and brushed the spot that made him tense in agonizing pleasure. Body arching backwards, hands on the door, Harry braced his legs and hips, pushing back into each firm thrust while softly begging for more.

Draco was nearly there when he realized Harry was crying again, tears quietly streaming down the boy’s face. It was very much a mood killer for Draco, even though he was well aware the damn werewolf, and likely his mate, got off on the smaller boy crying.

“Harry… what is it? What’s wrong?” He asked, stilling his movements even though Harry moaned in protest. “Harry, why are you crying?”

Harry blinked back at him, slowly raising his hand to his face and feeling the wetness there. He shook his head, confused. “I don’t know… It was feeling so good… I didn’t think I was sad…” He licked his lips, meeting Draco’s gaze. “I’m not sad. I’m happy… Sometimes I guess I just… cry happy…”

“You’re sure?” Draco wasn’t sure he believed the boy, but Harry was nodding at him in a way that made him think that Harry at least believed it.

Harry pressed back against him, urging him to continue. Eyes downcast, Draco did, kissing up the boy’s neck and trying to distract them both from Harry’s tears. He ran his hands down the front of Harry’s chest, plucking dusky nipples lightly while Harry moaned. Draco reached down further, palm flat over Harry’s navel, reaching to brush fingers against the boy’s aching length.

“Oh fuck… oh, touch it…” Harry begged, hips pushing back, and then forward, into Draco’s hand. “Yes… just like that…” Draco wrapped his fingers tight around Harry’s cock, letting the boy fuck his hand while he thrust into his tightness. Harry was clenching around him, pushing back and moaning softly with each thrust, helping to build the rhythm.

“Please… oh please…” Harry murmured, pushing back determinedly, trying to get Draco in deeper and to stay. “That’s it… yes… oh yes…” He clenched tight around Draco’s thickness, Draco just catching the boy’s expression before Harry cried out a final time, coming all over Draco’s hand.

Harry had gotten unbelievably tight inside, and Draco groaned, holding himself in the hot clench, grinding forward, listening to Harry gasp encouragingly, until he finally gave in, fire exploding through him as he filled Harry.

They lay collapsed on the door, the two a sweaty tangle of thin limbs and pale flesh. Harry was murmuring softly, nearly sweet nothings as Draco panted against his shoulder. Then, eyes catching sight of the collar, Draco spoke. “Harry, I need you to understand something.”

“Hmm?” Harry asked, turning his head slightly, resting it heavily on the door.

“This might not make much sense to you right now, but it will later. As long as you’re wearing that collar, that is the only way I’m ever going to touch you. Ever. And that’s the same for the wolf.”

Blinking, Harry nodded, biting his lip. “Wolf?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“You probably don’t remember him. A white wolf that you thought was pretty.” Draco ran fingers up and down the side of Harry’s face, studying him closely. “He likes you just as much, and neither of us want to hurt you, ever. Even if you might want us to. So, as long as you’re wearing that collar, I promise, this is how its going to be. Understand?”

Harry nodded, seemingly more confused but unwilling to voice it. It didn’t matter, since this wasn’t the Harry Draco was talking to, but the broken, demented thing that was outside of the collar and remembered everything that happened.

Because he could, and he wanted to, Draco held Harry close, kissing his neck and resting, waiting for the other boy to decide when it was time to go.

When Harry was like this, the way Draco had known him for the longest time, before Black and Remus and whatever fucked up shit had gotten to the small boy, it was difficult for Draco to let go. He knew it was a problem. Falling for Potter was about the damnedest stupidest thing he could every fucking do, especially now, when the boy would rather be raped than loved.

So Draco prepared himself. Because if Harry didn’t self destruct soon, then Draco likely would, and neither were pleasant options.

SCENE #Quiet tears

Draco was ready for Remus when the werewolf approached, only hours after Draco had finally left Harry in the empty classroom, collar still around his neck. The man was furious, standing outside the Slytherin common room, pacing in the narrow dungeon hallway while he waited for Draco to answer the portrait’s call.

“You wanted to see me, professor?” Draco asked, shutting the door behind him so no one would listen in. His politeness seemed to offend Remus more than anything, the man glaring daggers and clenching his fists.

“What did you do to him?” Remus snarled, taking a stalking step towards Draco. Draco held his ground, ignoring the way his heart raced at the smell of werewolf and anger.

“Nothing that would have hurt him,” Draco answered evenly, meeting the angry glare with one of his own. “Which is a fuck more than you can say.”

“Bullshit, you stupid pup! He was fucking crying. He doesn’t do that.” Remus took another step to tower over him, Draco trapped with the wall half a foot behind him.

“Oh, so now you suddenly care that he cries? Some human sensibility get its way into your damn deranged animal head of yours?” Draco snapped back. “He wanted me to force him. I refused. That he’s crying about it suggest something a lot more fucked up than either of you seem to realize.”

“Fucking hell—well its not a god damn problem now, is it?” Remus growled, throwing something at Draco’s chest. Draco caught it reflexively, raising it to his face and glancing so as not to let his guard drop around the enraged werewolf. It was the leather collar, chewed and bitten to pieces.

“The pup chewed it—took it off, seemed okay for a while and then suddenly started crying all quiet at me. When I asked him what was wrong, he turned into the dog and chewed the collar, and now won’t turn back. He won’t talk to me, just fucking sulking—I don’t know what to do!”

Draco fisted the scraps of collar, shoving them in his pocket before Remus could think to take them back and try to repair the blasted thing. “Here’s a thought; try not to fuck him while he’s like this,” Draco snarled, pushing the man out of his face and walking past so he wasn’t trapped. Remus made as if to swing at him, but Draco slipped around, pulling a necklace free from his shirt.

The silver chain glinted in the low torchlight, and Remus stayed where he was, his glare intensifying.

“I did not come here to fight. Just to understand,” the werewolf said more calmly, his rage kept in check.

“Can you even, Lupin? Are you even fucking capable?” Draco asked, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

“I know he’s broken, boy!” Remus yelled. “That’s not new news. His muggles fucked him up and he had no one to protect him. I’m trying the best that I can to give him some affection and stability. But I’m—”

“Fucked in the head, like all of your god damn kind. You think what you’re doing with him is affection? What Black does to him? That collar, was that fucking affection?” Draco sneered, his silver eyes piercing.

Remus took a long breath, looking away. “That’s different. If you weren’t such a prissy thing, you would understand. He needs it, begs for it, and this is how we enjoy it. It’s just wild nature, something you know little about.”

“I know about nature, Lupin, real nature and not that fucking evil beast in your head. That’s why you can’t fucking stand me—I’m not abnormal like you and it pisses you off.” Draco said knowingly, staring the man down. “You like to hurt him—you get off on it. He might be designed in a way to get off on it too, but don’t kid yourself into thinking it’s actually good for him. He has the body of your pack bitch, but he still has the mind of a god damn human boy. You might have understood that, before you got sucked into his heat and let the twisted wolf rule you.”

Remus snarled and began to pace, heavy hand slamming against the wall as he walked. “You arrogant, self righteous pain in the ass pup. I never should have let him near you—fucking knew it was trouble the moment he started making eyes at you.”

“Oh, believe me, I fucking avoided it as long as possible,” Draco growled back.

“Well, it’s bloody done. And you’re going to help me,” Remus said, turning on his foot and stalking back. “Help me get him to talk. Fix the damn boy.”

Draco snorted, about ready to hit the fucking imbecile across the castle. “You don’t just fucking fix people. And if he wants to talk, he has to actually choose to do it. You can’t force that, just the same fucking way you shouldn’t have forced him.” He ignored the warning growl, narrowing his eyes back.

“Let him sulk. Let him bitch and cry and do whatever it is he needs to do. And if you earned any trust from him, and he goes to talk to you, don’t fucking make him regret it. Just listen, and agree, and let him be.”

“Damn it, Malfoy, just talk to the boy!”

“Lupin, people don’t fix other people’s problems. They can only fix their own. If he wants to talk to me, I’ll gladly listen. But I’m not sticking my nose where its not wanted. I’ve got homework to do, so if you’ll excuse me, get the fuck out of my hallway.”

It was clearly not the answer Remus had been looking for when he had come down there, but it was the only one Draco was willing to give, considering the circumstances. The man eventually left, and Draco returned to his room, to brood and not finish his homework.

SCENE #Pupsitting during the moon

It was nearly a week before Remus approached Draco again, the man drained of anger and full of plain worry. He caught Draco outside of the Great Hall doors, right after dinner.

“Please.”

“Pardon?” Draco stopped short, not expecting to find the man there, never mind looking so desperate. He frowned, glancing towards the windows. “Shouldn’t you be… not near people right now?” Draco asked, referring to the oncoming full moon.

“I have to go, and I need someone to watch him. Not much time left…” Remus bent over, panting heavily. There was a sheen of sweat on the man’s face to go with his sudden pallor.

Frowning, Draco took a look around, trying to think of any excuse that could get him out of babysitting for the werewolf. “I thought I smelled Black return. Can’t he do it?”

Remus shook his head, looking like he was about to throw up. “He’s helping me tonight. Harry—he hasn’t eaten… can’t be alone…” Remus waved him down the hall, walking unsteadily while Draco huffed and followed. “I’ve been trying to give him space… just, he’s not coming out of it.”

Draco shrugged, biting his lip and trying not to worry about the boy. “Only because of the moon. I don’t want to be your excuse for infecting or murdering the entire student body.”

“How generous,” Remus muttered, but any edge in his voice was lightened by his grunt of pain.

Harry was hiding under Remus’s bed, Padfoot pointed towards the gap with his face, whining softly at the darkness beneath. When Remus and Draco stepped in, the large dog jumped up, Sirius appearing and standing fluidly. “Finally. You never should have waited this long, Remi.”

Remus waved at him dismissively. “Harry, love, the wolf is here. We’ll be back in the morning, don’t worry. I have—damn!” Remus clutched his side, nearly falling to his knees.

Sirius quickly grabbed his mate, glaring at Draco briefly before hauling Remus’s arm over his shoulder. “Harry, we’re leaving. Food, juice, bed—you know the drill. Try and keep your chin up, pup.” They didn’t say goodbye to Draco, shutting the door behind them as Sirius dragged Remus out the door.

Scratching his head in annoyance, Draco looked slowly around the dingy room that reeked of werewolf and dog. It was cluttered with books and papers, and very much worn and as rumpled as the werewolf appeared. Somewhat cozy, but not by much, feeling more run down and tired at the moment with half eaten dinner on the table and Black’s boots muddied by the door. Actually, it was down right domestic.

He could smell Harry under the bed, in dog form, and having been there a long time. Draco didn’t know if it was true the boy wasn’t eating, but it seemed he wasn’t moving much, if anything. “Sorry to intrude, Potter. I’ll be out of your fur soon enough, so don’t mind me.” Focusing on a rather dusty armchair, Draco decided it was safe enough, smelling more of Harry than of Remus. He settled down, huffing and burying his head in his hands.

Harry was whining softly, small little thumps sounding as the dog whipped its tail against the floor. Draco sighed, lowering his hands to look towards the sound. A narrow chocolate colored face with bright green eyes peered out from under the bed, whining inquiringly. Potter looked nearly a wolf, Alsatian with sharp dark features. His fur was ruffled, creating fluffy points to the sides of his face. Licking his tongue out and wetting his nose, Harry gave another whine, tail thumping again.

“What?” Draco asked, raising a brow. More whining and tail thumping retorted back, and with a sigh, Draco got down to the floor and knelt in front of the fluffy, dark dog. He reached his hand out, Harry licking him in greeting. “You hungry, Potter?”

Harry whimpered, wiggling a little further out from under the bed, pushing his head into Draco’s hand. Rolling his eyes, Draco settled on the floor, petting the smooth head, tangling in the silky chocolate fur and combing. The dog was too thin, and maybe dehydrated by the look of it. “I can’t imagine you want to see me… Pretty sure I’m the last person you would want to see after everything that happened.”

Feeling somewhat stupid for talking to a dog that was very likely not going to answer back, Draco stopped, instead scratching Harry behind the ear while the dog sighed contently and closed its eyes. Watching him long moments, Draco decided being furry was much easier than being human at that moment, and with a shrug of bones and skin, melted into his wolf form.

Harry gave a happy yip to see the white wolf, tail again thumping on the floor. Sniffing the dog’s face politely, Draco gave a small lick to the dark snout and curled up beside the smaller dog, More wiggling later, and Harry’s head was sprawled back and up against Draco’s tall side, the dog giving a soft whine before closing his eyes again in rest.

Life as a wolf was much simpler. Draco had never realized just how still he was inside until finishing his animagus training in secret. The wolf gave him confidence and a deep understanding he had never had as just a confused young man trying to understand the war his parents were fighting.

Humans complicated things unnecessarily. They hurt others because they hurt, wanted things they had no right to have, and spent a lot of needless time thinking of themselves and figuring out their value. The wolf knew its value, because it understood the order of nature. He lived because thats what living things did, and he would one day die, because that was also what living things did. He would kill to live, and play to enjoy the life he already was living. And when the wolf mated, the way it wished to with the bizarre chocolate mess next to him, it was also a simple thing, because love was simple when humans weren’t involved.

But the chocolate dog was a mess, half starved and in need of water and comfort. And worse, the creature had done it to itself, for some reason refusing to enjoy the life it had. As a human it was very easy for Draco to say the foolish thing needed to figure things out on its own, but as a wolf, the creature wanted to add its companionship and help remind the young dog that life was not a lonely existence. So, after a few friendly licks to Harry’s furry face, Draco closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift, just enjoying the company.

SCENE #Heartfelt apologies

When the wolf awoke again, Harry was human, half hidden in his white fur as the boy sipped a glass of juice and hugged him. Huffing air in greeting, Draco closed his eyes while Harry petted his face and leaned into him and called him pretty names.

“I’m glad you came by, Malfoy… I thought maybe you didn’t like me anymore…” Harry whispered into the fur around his neck. Draco licked at the hand petting him, reassuring that he very much still liked Harry, even if the boy was rather messed up. “Good boy, you lovely, gorgeous thing…” Harry murmured, running fingers over Draco’s brows and snout gently.

“Just… don’t hate me… I shouldn’t have done what I did… it was wrong… I just… I needed it to not be wrong to be able to keep going… I’m sorry… I’m really, really sorry…”

Whining, Draco turned his head, lapping at Harry’s face to reassure the boy that he was worrying over nothing. He wasn’t angry, not anymore, just really concerned. Harry smiled crookedly and thankfully not deranged, glasses going astray. He fixed them in place, his smile disappearing as he looked into Draco’s watching eyes. “It was… it was actually nice that you did what you did… I… I didn’t know how, I guess… Didn’t know how to say okay to one thing, but no to another, when my body just acted like it was all the same thing.”

Harry looked away, petting the soft fur he was leaning against absentmindedly. “And… you showed me that part of why it felt the way it had been was because I was scared a lot still… even without the collar… I had a lot of terror every time with Remus and Sirius… It made things very intense, but… wrong. And I didn’t understand that…” Sighing heavily, Harry buried his face into Draco’s side and stayed there, breathing deep.

“Don’t know what to do… Don’t know how to tell them… Hell—I don’t even know if they’ll care.”

Nuzzling into him, Draco managed to get the boy out from his fluff enough to lick his face reassuringly, rewarded by Harry’s quiet chuckles. Harry wrapped his arms tight around his neck, eyes closing again.

“It’s easier as a dog… Not so complicated… not so many fucked up feelings inside…” Harry breathed hot air, pressing closer and muffling his words into the thick fur. “You’re very pretty as a wolf, Draco… and as a person, handsome that is… I really want you to like me, and I hope I didn’t ruin everything with that collar thing…”

When the boy seemed intent to stay lost in his fur again, Draco gave him a gentle nip and knowing look once green eyes met his. “Fine, I’m being stupid… I’m entitled…” Harry muttered, then smirked as he was licked again.

Draco got to his feet, half dragging Harry until the boy let go of his neck. Moving to the small table, Draco pointed his head towards the dinner plates and whined. Harry got up, swaying unsteadily, grabbing onto Draco’s form when close enough. There was a covered dish, a warming spell placed on it waiting for him just in case Harry finally decided to eat. The boy picked the plate up along with a fork and sat back down on the floor, the wolf lying beside him and nosing curiously at the food.

Harry took small bites, sharing with Draco, who found very little but the chocolate pudding of much interest. And then Harry hunkered down in his fur again, twirling the fluff between his fingers as he sighed soft sighs and smiled sleepily.

SCENE #Sirius and Remus return

The wolf awoke when the two men returned, Remus healed by Sirius but still exhausted from the moon as the taller man dragged him in, removed his clothing and put him to bed, dawn just rising outside. Harry was still cuddled up against Draco’s side, the boy’s light upper body cradled by his fur and likely to fall flat to the floor if Draco moved. Which was the only reason why he stayed still when Sirius, finished with Remus, loomed over him and started glaring.

“Look at you, you bloody pure white thing. Don’t you just scream arrogant. I don’t know what you did to him, but you left him in a damn mess, and then you didn’t bother to come back to clean it up. You’re lucky Remus has final say, otherwise I would have castrated you, you damn self important wolf.”

Draco raised his head, glaring back and growling lowly. It was hardly his fault what had happened to Harry, but the foolish, abnormal werewolf and its mate’s standing before him. Harry shifted, murmuring something and wrapping an arm tighter around Draco’s neck. Draco stopped growling, turning his head to lick at the boy’s face before settling down again. Fuck Black, no one cared what he thought anyways.

Eyes drawn to Harry’s human and resting face, Sirius’s anger faded a bit, the man raking his dark hair as he crouched to make sure Harry was okay. He glared at Draco when the wolf opened his eyes and huffed, but then turned his attention to making sure Harry was well. He had been hiding under the bed for nearly a week, so Remus had told him. Sirius had come back for the moon, knowing his mate would need his companionship during such a difficult time. Finding Harry sulking and apparently fucking the damn annoying Slytherin prat had been two very nasty surprises waiting at his return.

Harry was too thin again, but breathing evenly, clothes a mess and in need of changing. Satisfied the boy wasn’t going to die anytime soon, Sirius stood again and began cleaning up the plates from last evening, tidying the small place so Remus wouldn’t wake to a mess. Satisfied things were in a fair enough order, he gave in to his own exhaustion, stripping and slipping into bed beside Remus with a tired sigh.

SCENE #Making it feel right

It was around noon when Harry roused, using the small connecting bathroom and having a glass of water to take the fuzz out of his head. He gave the pretty white wolf a pet, and then went to the bed where Remus and Sirius were sleeping, staring contemplatively at the two men. They were much softer in sleep, although Sirius had gotten better since being around them, and Remus was always calmer after the moon when the werewolf had the weakest influence.

A blue eye peeked out at him, and Sirius’s gruff voice followed as he beckoned with his hand. “Come on, pup. Tell me what happened.”

Crawling up the bed between the two, Harry settled, sighing from the warmth, familiar scents, and press of flesh. He turned so he could face Sirius, biting his lip as he tried to explain the feelings he was still having difficulty fully understanding himself.

Sirius waited patiently, running fingers through Harry’s hair while carefully setting the boy’s glasses aside on the small nightstand so they wouldn’t get mangled. “Remi told me you didn’t like the collar anymore.”

Harry nodded slowly, trying to read the man’s face to see if he was angry. His wild blue eyes were much less wild lately, now just stunning and currently concerned. “I… Every time, I’ve been afraid that you were going to hurt me. The collar… the collar made it so I didn’t have to wonder anymore.”

Sirius sighed, a long exhalation of breath through his nose that ruffled Harry’s hair while the man thought. “Part of why we like to hurt you, Harry, is because we thought you really, actually enjoyed it. Except for the first times—That was something I shouldn’t have done. The prison twisted me and Paddy, and I hurt you, and I’m very sorry. Erasing your memory didn’t mean it was okay to do that. You smelling the way you did, didn’t mean it was okay either. I’m not like that anymore, so you don’t have to be afraid, love.”

“I know…” Harry bit his lip harder, feeling stupid and confused that Sirius had thought it had been about how he had first woken up.

“Siri, it wasn’t just your and Remi’s fault that I had so much fear… I had the fear for so long whenever I even thought of sex. It was my uncle and my aunt, and everyone that ever made it as if not being like them meant I was nothing…” Harry sighed, eyes blinking down at the sheets. “So, the collar helped me feel like something… Like… as long as someone was forcing me to feel those feelings—punishing me for them—instead of me admitting they were from inside, I was still an okay person for being the way I was.

“I had liked boys for a while… and had thought about… thought about dogs… and thought there was something very wrong with me,” Harry mumbled lowly.

“But pup, there is nothing wrong with you. You’re a wonderful, brilliant person, and those idiot muggles didn’t know a god damn thing about anything so wonderful as you.” Voice full of rough compassion, Sirius wrapped his hand around the back of Harry’s neck, letting his fingers curl comfortingly.

Harry just shrugged at the thought of him being anything wonderful. “Draco showed me that… that it was okay to feel those feelings when I was wearing the collar. That it was okay to like those things… He showed me that I wanted someone to care about me when touching me… And… it was really sad, Siri.” Harry whispered, eyes welling with tears.

“Because I realized I had kept putting the collar on when you and Remus were being nice to me. That I had kept trying to block out just how much the two of you cared and thought I was okay. That was why I had tried to do the same with Draco. Because it was just easier to be scared and think I was a freak…

“And… and even now, I’m scared that anyone cares about me, and that I might not just be nothing. I’m scared to be something. It’s really fucked up.”

Sirius sighed, bowing his forehead to Harry’s, letting the boy cry silently. “It’s okay, pup… I promise… it’s gonna be okay…”

Remus stirred behind him, having been listening quietly, running his hand over Harry’s back and shoulders comfortingly. “We’re all a little fucked up, pup. And we care about you greatly, even if we don’t always show it proper. As long as you’re willing to share these things, we can help you.”

Remus rested his chin on Harry’s shoulder, meeting Sirius’s eyes. “Granted, I blame myself for not having figured it out… You kept wearing the thing, more and more. Even when alone.”

Harry nodded, eyes downcast. “It uh… I needed to remember just how bad it was… I was… for liking it… I was forgetting, enjoying myself, and I needed to be able to remember it was wrong.”

Remus winced while Sirius growled at him. “Yes, well… complexes like that can be cleaned up after a bit, Harry. We’ll just all have to work on it. What you are, and what you like is perfectly fine. It might not be ‘normal,’ but hell, you’re a god damn wizard, pup. You were never going to be normal anyways. Always, always you had to be spectacular on some level,” Remus murmured into Harry’s shoulder.

Spectacular also seemed like too good of a word to Harry. Sighing, he wiggled back into Remus’s embrace, pulling at his t-shirt until the man removed it and held him tight while the three of them rested long moments.

Sirius plucked at the boy’s fringe, Harry’s eyes finally dry, face less pulled down in its frown. He rubbed at the boy’s cheek with his thumb until finally a small smile began to appear, tugging at the corner of Harry’s red mouth.

Harry had never shared something so personal before with them. Small things, yes, like some of the things the Dursleys had done to the boy, locking him away when he wasn’t ‘right,’ making him feel like his existence had been a burden on them—that to clothe and feed him was just too much of an expense that they had barely bothered the attempt. If the boy owned a thing of his own, it was magical, because the Dursleys hardly thought a moment of him for muggle things.

Who had Harry gone to before Sirius and Remus to talk about such things? There had been no one. No one to listen, and certainly no one to accept him how he was. When Sirius was young, there had been James, and Remus, and even Peter. Harry hadn’t even opened up to his friends, his problems somehow seeming too big for children to handle.

Which brought him to the Malfoy boy… and the annoying realization that the little prat had been good for Harry.

Somehow the pale boy and his wolf had been able to behave human while dealing with the damn powerful heat that Harry created in anything remotely canine. Maybe it was because Remus and Sirius had been used to giving in to the base urges concerning sex, and had ignored how young Harry still was emotionally. Or maybe the damn Slytherin was more objective because of the other feelings Remus had mentioned the boy having for Harry.

“So, the white thing really helped you with all this?” Sirius asked, fighting the frown twisting the corners of his lips down.

“Yeah…” Harry smiled secretively, then met Sirius’s gaze. “I really like him, Siri. And… and I think he might really like me.”

Sirius’s frown deepened, and the man sighed heavily. “It’s always going to be your choice, love. He’s less annoying all furry, anyways.”

“Oh he is… very good furry…” Harry agreed, flush rising up his face at the memory.

Breathing in sharply, Sirius peeked over Remus’s shoulder, meeting his mate’s golden gaze. “As a wolf?”

Remus licked his lips, and then licked the back of Harry’s neck. “He wouldn’t shut up about it for days after. Right Harry? He was big, and—”

“Slow with me… really slow, and gentle, and big.” Harry said, lips parting to pant. “It was so good, Siri. So fucking good inside me… He got me so wet, and full…”

“You like that, don’t you?” Sirius whispered hoarsely, leaning forward to kiss Harry’s lips, tongue dipping in and tasting as the boy groaned and opened for him. “You like furry cock, all silky and swelling the way it does.”

“Yes… I really do…” Harry admitted hesitantly, eyes bright and full of want. “Especially when I’m human, and I can feel how the fur is against me… and how big it gets inside… oh fuck… how long… how long he fucks me… over and over again… won’t let me go until he’s had all he wants from me…”

Remus growled behind him, large hands suddenly pulling at Harry’s jeans, tearing at his fly and pushing pants and underwear down the boy’s thighs. “Harry… I want to fill you…” He bit Harry’s ear, hands moving up the boy’s sides and pulling him back against him even more.

“Please… please do…” Harry moaned, pushing back. “Need to feel it again… to feel good…”

Sirius stopped him, hands over Remus’s. “Is it going to be good, Harry? After everything we’ve been talking about?”

Harry nodded, leaning forward to kiss the man. “It’s going to finally be good, Siri.”

“Even though we’re not slow, love?’ Sirius insisted, trying not to give in to the teeth nipping at his jaw. “We can’t be gentle, pup… just don’t have it in us…”

“I don’t want you to be gentle. I want him to be gentle, because that’s the way he is… And you two, you need to be the way you are with me, so that I can be the many ways I am, and learn to feel okay about it,” Harry finished barely above a whisper, biting Sirius’s lower lip, until the man relented and let go of Remus’s hands, quickly helping to get Harry’s pants all the way off.

Sirius kissed down Harry’s throat and chest while Remus stretched the boy, Harry whimpering in absolute bliss from the feel of teeth on his nipples and his hole being roughly loosened with thick fingers.

“Siri—oh… oh!” Harry gasped, the man biting him sharply at the thin skin at the base of his throat, and then again, finding the muscle connecting to his shoulder and clamping teeth. Remus joined, biting Harry’s other shoulder, firmly dragging teeth in and massaging the muscle with their strong jaws while Harry wailed and shook.

There was a concerned whine, and Harry managed to pry his eyes open, waving in a reassuring manner as the white wolf peeked up over the bed at him, silver eyes regarding him heatedly. Harry gaped, Sirius readjusting to bite him again, and Remus shoving another finger into him, three filling his clenching hole thickly. Right now, Harry was pretty sure nothing had ever felt so good than to have two strong, hot and loving bodies pressing to him and doing such terrible, wonderful things. Not to mention, the sweet white wolf watching, seeing Harry so thoroughly debauched.

“Need you, Harry…” Remus growled, reaching up beneath the boy’s thighs to pull his thin leg up, raising his knee as he pushed the head of his cock to Harry’s ass. “Was so worried… and now… now I need to show it…”

Harry murmured something agreeable, Sirius currently licking down his chest again, heavy hands roughly helping to push Harry back into Remus’s hips. “Oh… oh god, Remus…” Head thrown back, Harry moaned loudly, the large man pushing into him in short, hard thrusts until fully buried inside, Harry’s channel clenching possessively around his cock.

“That’s it, Harry… take him in,” Sirius murmured hoarsely, moving down Harry’s body to lick the boy’s sweaty navel with his wide tongue, and press hands over his spread thighs. He brushed fingers closer, teasing at where Remus was stretching Harry wide, Remus grunting from the feel as Harry moaned again.

“Siri, quiet the boy up, hmm?” Remus muttered, waiting for Sirius to withdraw and kiss Harry bruisingly. Harry sufficiently gagged, Remus began to pump into the small boy, the angle forcing him to be slower than normal, but still allowing him to reach deep, pulling Harry’s hips back with each long push.

Sirius swallowed most of the gasping cries, the man very much in love with Harry’s sweet tasting mouth and all the many things it could do. Currently it was dripping, saliva streaming down while Sirius twisted the boy’s tongue with his own. He bit Harry’s lip, pulling firmly, letting it pop from his teeth just to nip it again until it was sore and swollen. “Fucking tasty, little slut…” Sirius groaned, pulling away to give Remus enough room to roll, and pin Harry into the mattress

Head lost in the pillows, Harry turned his face best he could against the softness, until Sirius grabbed the damn thing so the boy could breathe. He then shoved it under Harry’s hips, giving the boy a bit more leverage and something yielding for his aching cock to rub into while Remus rode him hard and demandingly.

“Oh god… oh fuck… oh—” Harry was cut off, Sirius’s thick fingers clamping over his mouth, keeping him from the very loud cries the boy was well known for at this point. It wasn’t a problem in a properly warded room, but Remus didn’t usually fuck the boy in his quarters, saving that for the Shrieking Shack, and sometimes his classroom, where they were less likely to have teachers stopping by to talk.

Harry didn’t mind, tongue pressing into the taste of Sirius’s fingers and the texture of the rough hand, letting his cries loose inside, and having his hot breath bounce back across his face. He listened instead to Remus’s loud grunts in his ear, and the way their flesh was slapping each time he slammed in. And then Harry didn’t hear anything at all, fire rushing through his entire body as Remus reached the right angle and began hitting his prostate with each blow.

Remus came with a strangled cry, Harry clenching so tight around him when he orgasmed that he had no choice but to slam in and stay in while the boy bucked and writhed. Body heaving and sweat soaked, he rolled off, collapsing on the bed to pant while Sirius took his spot behind Harry.

Biting up the boy’s neck while he positioned himself, Sirius removed his hand from Harry’s mouth, seeing if he was in a less loud state. Harry groaned softly, pushing back against him, trying to get Sirius to continue as the boy rose to his hands and knees. “Come on, Siri… fucking need you in me…” he whimpered, loving the way Remus’s cum was dripping out of him and down his thighs.

“I know you do, Harry… I know what you need, when you need it…” Sirius assured him roughly, holding the boy still so he couldn’t push onto him just yet. He slid his fingers down Harry’s thighs, scooping up the white slick and bringing it to Harry’s mouth. The boy moaned, opening to the fingers to taste Remus and his insides and feel filthy in an amazingly good way.

Then Sirius wiped it on the boy’s face, over his cheeks and chin, scooping more to get Harry’s neck and leaving spots on his nipples while Harry jerked from each touch. “Almost ready, little slut… almost dirty enough for me to fill you…”

“Oh god… fuck, Siri, just do me…” Harry gasped, but Sirius wasn’t done, fingers digging into Harry’s hole to get more of Remus’s cum, just to rub it over his pert ass and tight cheeks. Harry shuddered, another loud moan just starting to break free when Sirius clamped his hand over his mouth again.

“That’s it… that’s the right noise, bitch… Now spread those legs wide and let’s see how you feel, hmm?”

Harry did as he asked, knees sliding on the mattress while Sirius curved over his back, the large man holding Harry steady with a hand on his hip. Sirius pushed in slowly, nipping at Harry’s neck, urging the boy to clench around him, his channel tightening for him. “Good boy… good little slut… Make it nice and tight for me…”

Harry whimpered in the constricting hand, feeling maddened at this point, trying to push back into Sirius’s body but to no avail. He needed fucking, moving—needed it moving inside him, and Sirius was deliberately being resistant, teasing him like he always did, drawing it out for Remus to watch, and now the pretty white wolf who had yet to stop its intent gaze.

Oh, Harry hoped the wolf would have him too. Hoped Draco would want to join in after his pack was tired of him, which the men usually were for at least a good hour after the first round, leaving Harry in agonizing need during that time.

Sighing in his ear, Sirius pulled out and then thrust hard into Harry, Harry crying out into the hand around his mouth. Sirius liked to make sure Harry felt it sometimes, liked to ream in hard between moments of quiet, just to make sure Harry didn’t miss any movement of the hard dick inside him. It was delicious agony, and Harry gave in to it, eyes closing while sweat dripped down his face, each thrust wonderful torment.

“So fucking tight, pup… how the fuck do you do that?” Sirius muttered, hips slamming forward faster, unable to hold back as he built up speed.

“He sure fucking is,” Remus agreed, having caught his breath enough to turn over and watch, his hand cupping Sirius’s ass, and then slapping hard.

“Fuck, Remi!” Sirius gasped, eyes closing from the pain, hips jolting forward.

“You know you like it, Black,” Remus growled, moving to grab the man’s strong hips and lick a line up his ass crack.

“Didn’t… say… I didn’t…” Sirius moaned, his motions slowing to accommodate what Remus was doing with his tongue, much to Harry’s distress. Then Remus was pushing fingers into him, unrelenting, Sirius jolting forward with each thrust, trying to figure out if it would be better to gag Harry or himself right now as he groaned loudly.

“Come for me, baby, I know you want to. Fucking fill that tight, slutty hole with your hot cum and show me who you belong to,” Remus growled, mounting Sirius with his half hard erection and pushing in, Sirius bending forward over Harry, grabbing the mattress with both hands, and releasing Harry’s and his moans at the same time.

“Fuck Remi… my god… yes…”

“Hurry Siri… fucking listen to your alpha,” Remus taunted, smacking the man again on his ass, and damn him, Sirius fucking did as he was told, body tensing as he came in Harry’s clenching hole, grinding the boy forward while they both yelled in release.

Grinning wickedly, Remus extracted himself from his beautiful mate, giving a farewell lick to his hole. Stretching his arms over his head, he walked nude around the fluffy white beast watching hungrily, and went to make breakfast while Harry and Sirius collapsed on the bed.

“Siri… you’re heavy…” Harry complained, wiggling beneath the man’s sweaty, hard body.

“I know pup, and you’re going to have to deal with it,” Sirius said gruffly, unable to move just yet. “My god… that man of mine…”

Harry sighed, not the first time he had been stuck underneath one of the two men. Once, under both of them, but they had been kind to move quick enough, the combined weight unbearable. “Siri… I’m not done…”

“Mmm… fine, fine, you inexhaustible slut. Go ride the wolf,” Sirius grumbled, rolling slowly and laying out spent as he caught his breath.

Harry sat up dizzily, crawling down the bed to where the pretty white wolf was staring at him. Draco gave a soft whine, and Harry smiled, leaning down to let him lick his face. And then he gasped, remembering just what was on his face as the slippery tongue began cleaning him intently.

Harry moved down to the floor, not wanting to deal with the wolf’s legs and the soft mattress. He giggled, Draco licking everywhere he could reach, cleaning intently all the hard work the two men had left to dirty Harry with. “Oh… oh that’s nice, Draco… oh yeah…” Harry murmured, eyes half closed, Draco licking up his stomach where Harry had left his own release to sit and cool.

Harry wrapped his arms around the wolf’s neck, kissing him on the nose, opening to the persistent tongue and licking back. If Remus tasted like chocolate, and Sirius like peppermint, Draco definitely tasted like honey, warm and sweet and very addictive. And still, very intent on cleaning Harry, moving to the bruises on his shoulder, swiping down his chest and nipples, stomach and cock and then between his dripping thighs and balls.

Moaning shakily, Harry spread his legs and raised his knees, helping the nosing wolf get closer and deeper with its pink tongue. Harry bent forward, petting the lovely face, tangling fingers into its fur and holding Draco there as he licked around his hole with short swipes. It was a ritual Harry was definitely enjoying, but he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to handle much more of it.

Gently pushing the wolf away, tongue again swiping over Harry’s face a moment, Harry turned, trying to get to his knees while leaning on the bed. The wolf started licking up his back and Harry whimpered, falling heavily to sit while Draco continued cleaning him, his skin feeling very hot all over with each swipe. “Draco… hell… I can barely move…” Harry groaned, feeling very dizzy as soft fur pressed to his skin and Draco licked down his throat.

“Juice, pup.” Sirius appeared beside him, pressing the cool glass against his sweating face until Harry drank it down. “Don’t wear yourself out too much. You’ve been upset, remember.”

Harry nodded gratefully, the pumpkin juice doing much to restore some energy too him. Sirius took the glass back, returning to his soft conversation with Remus across the room. Harry turned his face over his shoulder, catching silver eyes and smiling, kissing Draco’s nose again. The slippery tongue was instantly on his mouth, stealing away the taste of pumpkin and replacing with Draco’s honey flavor. “Oh… okay… yeah…” Harry moaned, sinking against the bed and giving in to the determined tongue once again.

Harry started to stretch, pushing up the side of the bed, tensing his thighs and enjoying how good it felt. Draco moved down his back again, tongue following his spine, licking over Harry’s ass cheeks and nipping one lightly. At his yelp, Harry heard Remus mutter a silencing spell in the background, and then he didn’t notice much of anything, besides Draco’s tongue deep in his hole, hot and slippery and so damn determined to clean him.

“Draco… please… please…” Harry moaned, grasping the sheets in front of him and pushing back into the scalding breath moving over and in him. “God, it aches—fucking aching for you…” The wolf gave a soft whine, and just continued his licking, tormenting Harry with each slippery swipe of tongue, and hard nudge of nose.

“I need you… oh god… please, Wolfie… please, give it to me…” Harry begged, rocking his hips back and forth in invitation.

Draco gave a particularly loud grunt, swiping goodbye to Harry’s thighs and slowly climbing up the boy’s back. Harry whimpered in anticipation, soft fur encompassing his body and flesh, the smell of wolf, and sex, and Draco so strong in the air until Harry felt completely lost in the wolf.

Harry began to gasp softly, feeling just how ready Draco was for him, shots of fluid already splattering where ever the wolf’s dick pointed as it tried to line itself to Harry’s entrance. “Oh god… oh my god…” And then it was pressing at his hole, rocking just at the entrance, pushing in somehow slow as Draco managed to hold back even now, even while splattering him with little jolts of hot precum. Harry couldn’t remember having felt so much suspense for anything in his life, his hips twitching as he waited, fucking waited for the wolf to do what wolves did, and fuck him senseless.

The white wolf licked Harry once, around his throat and shoulder, and then surged forward, Harry howling in surprise and relief as finally Draco began to thrust into him, wild, jerking thrusts that shook his entire body. Panting, mouth hanging open as loud moans escaped him, Harry grabbed tighter to the sheets, pushing back, trying to get the already swollen knot to fit into him and fill him like he so desperately craved.

“Fuck… fuck… too big… damn it… damn…” Harry gave a soft sob, the fucking knot already so large, and his hole again having done its tightening trick, not wanting to let it in. He kept pushing back, meeting each hard thrust, body sweating at the exertion, but to no avail. Draco whined in his ear, trying to reassure him, but Harry was aching so bad for more. “Please… please, I need it… fuck… please…”

Sirius was suddenly beside him, pulling Harry’s face up while he groaned in desperation. “Calm down, love… You’re only going to get tighter doing that.” He stroked the boy’s face reassuringly, glancing at the wolf glaring at him. “Calm down, and give Malfoy a chance to transform. If he’s good enough, he can slide home and be back to furry, all in a moment. I’ve had the problem myself, and it works.” Stepping away again, Sirius nodded his head at the wolf, showing he was done interrupting.

“Draco… can you?” Harry whimpered, trying to slow his desperate movements to some form of calm. And Draco was good enough, because Harry had barely gotten the words out when everything shifted, feeling like the world was spinning, and then Harry was full, so fucking full inside. All he could do was gape, small choked noises breaking free. And then moans, pushing his body back into the renewed thrusts, eyes closed as he shuddered around the delicious, hot cum streaming inside him.

Sirius exchanged glances with Remus, the dark man biting his lip until it bled. Remus grabbed him around the waist, letting Sirius watch while he touched his mate and watched as well. Harry was a fucking fine sight spreading for the wolf, and so god damn enjoying it, head thrown back, fingers clawing against the mattress, eyes shut and mouth wide as he moaned in agony, riding the huge cock tied inside him. And maybe they didn’t dislike Malfoy just so much at that moment, because anyone that could make Harry look like that, and so clearly happy in it, couldn’t be all that bad.

“Oh fuck… oh fuck… gonna… fuck…” A slippery tongue ran across Harry’s mouth in sympathy, Harry gasping around it, his entire body tightening as he came hard. Harry clung desperately to the sheets, trying not to black out, the room spinning as his body shuddered again and again, quaking from the intensity of it all. “Don’t stop…” he insisted to the worried nose nuzzling at him. “Don’t you dare… fucking… stop…”

Huffing, Draco continued his thrusts, licking the boy in long swipes while he did, filling Harry as much as he demanded, and as long as he demanded. Even though the boy was spent, he was clenching around Draco, milking him for more, spurring him on as Harry rested and enjoyed the amazing feeling.

“They can go like that for hours,” Remus murmured into Sirius’s ear, the taller man nodding dumbly. “Did, the last time he knotted. You know how tight the boy can get… probably never lets up the whole fucking time.”

“I remember… fuck…” Sirius whined a very Padfoot whine.

“Keeps him busy… keeps him tired, for a fucking change…”

Sirius nodded again, turning his face to kiss his mate, but didn’t take his eyes from the sight. Harry had started pushing back again, started moaning agreeably and hungrily, and the wolf was nipping in anticipation. “We need to keep him, Remi… I know, he’s a fucking pain, but we need to keep him… This needs to happen all. the fucking. time.”

Remus snorted, but didn’t disagree. “He won’t join a werewolf pack, Siri. He’s a proper wolf.”

“Then we will convince him that being proper isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Fuck, Remi… just fuck… look at them…” Harry was howling again, head turned back to let the wolf lick his mouth ravenously while Draco continued to pound into him.

“I don’t know… The boy doesn’t want to be chained. Well, except to the pup, clearly.”

And even that thought, the idea of Harry mating permanently with the annoying Slytherin prat, was suddenly not rage inducing to Sirius, having seen just how good the two were together physically and emotionally. “Well… we’ll see. I’m sure they’ll know what they want eventually.”

Remus nodded, biting Sirius’s neck sharply and pushing him up against the kitchen table. “Think you can handle another round, Black?”

“With the pup, no,” Sirius said bluntly. “But with you, fuck yes.” Smirking wickedly, Remus pressed up against his lovely, crazy mate, not at all upset when Sirius chose to watch Harry being reamed by the white wolf while Remus reamed him.

SCENE #Harry catches a mate

Draco had once again run across Harry, the boy relentless in stalking him down, this time waiting till after dinner to find him. Draco knew why, and he wasn’t by any means pleased by it, having avoided Harry twice that day and now caught.

“I already told them both no, Potter.”

“Come on…” Harry whined, green eyes wide and pleading, even thought his smile was bordering on dodgy.

“You know why,” Draco snarled, glaring at the gorgeous nuisance.

“It’s just one time, Malfoy,” Harry insisted, smile widening to full out deranged.

“Yeah, like that’s ever going to fucking happen.” Draco stopped from where he was walking towards the Slytherin common room, Harry blocking his path. “Do I strike you as some sort of bitch, Potter?”

“Oh… I dunno… you are very pretty, Draco,” Harry lowered his lashes, smile changing to sweet as he stepped up to the boy and tried to kiss him.

Draco was having none of it, grabbing Harry by the shirt front and keeping him at arm’s length. “I am not spreading for your fucking alpha to join your pack. It’s a deal breaker and that’s final.”

The deranged look was back in Harry’s eye, and Draco knew he should listen to his wolf and fucking leave before the boy did something terrible and potentially convincing.

“You sure? Even if you could be my mate?”

Draco narrowed his eyes, looking Harry over slowly, his wolf whining in his ear in warning. “What does that even mean, Potter? You’re a fucking pack bitch. I’d have better luck choosing a bag of crisps for a mate—it would be shared less.”

Harry licked his lips, a familiar blush rising on the boy’s face. Draco cursed inwardly and reminded himself that talking mean never worked the right way with Harry anymore. It was also a terrible habit he just couldn’t seem to break himself out of since Harry looked just so sexy like that.

“I could mate with a fucking hat collecting money for charity, and it would pass through fewer hands than you do…” Harry’s eyes widened, and Draco couldn’t help himself. He stepped forward, pushing the boy towards the wall.

“A god damn pack of cigarettes would have less lip sucking action than your fucking hole, Potter,” he muttered, Harry’s heels hitting the wall and forcing the brunette to stop suddenly, hands pressing against the stone behind him as he stared at Draco in wonder. “Every plate in the Great fucking Hall has been eaten off of less than your tight ass has been eaten out of.”

“Whoa… I’m totally writing that one down,” Harry said breathlessly, face tilted up as Draco brushed his nose to his. “Come on, Wolfie… you know you want me…”

“Everyone wants you,” Draco growled lowly, seemingly not able to break away from Harry’s hazy gaze. “Fucking look at you.”

Harry shrugged unconcernedly. “I want you. And sometimes, some other warm, hard bodies that are damn friendly enough to me. But mostly, just you. And, if you were my mate, you could decide if those other hard bodies I was considering are even available.”

Draco huffed, his breath bouncing back at him since he had yet to move from his close proximity to Harry’s mouth. “Except your alpha.”

“Except Remus, yes… and Sirius,” Harry added, his deranged smile returning. “They’re usually a package deal trying to keep me satisfied. And I fucking like it, so too bad.”

“I’m nobody’s bitch, Potter,” Draco stated, remembering again why he was not in any way, shape, or form interested in joining Remus’s pack—or any werewolf pack, for that matter, that insisted on fucking every member that joined.

“Its just one time, Wolfie,” Harry murmured, tongue reaching out to lick Draco’s lips. “And I could wear him out real good beforehand. He’d be lucky if he could lift his finger, never mind his dick once I’m done with him.”

“Not fucking happening,” Draco gritted out, Harry’s tongue trying to slip in and taste him. He grabbed the boy by the face, holding him firm against the wall. Harry started panting in the hold, eyes intent, mouth somehow redder when particularly horny.

“Potter, once I was in your little pack, that sick fuck would have me anytime he fucking wanted—just because he knew he could as my alpha, and because it would fucking piss me off. I’m not falling for it.”

“No he wouldn’t… not if you wore your silver necklace. He can barely stand you as it is—and Siri would be pissed if Remi wasted his energy on anyone besides him, anyways.” Draco did not look convinced and Harry whined, biting his lower lip in a ridiculously adorable plea.

“I don’t like things up my ass, mutt.”

“Hmm… I don’t think you’ve ever actually had anything up your ass, Mr. Prissy,” Harry shot back, smiling widely when Draco blinked and glared, having guessed correctly. “That’s what I thought. All big talk, and very little walk… Although, who’s to say anything could fit around the stick you have permanently lodged up there?” Harry added, his eyebrows wagging lewdly.

Not liking where this was suddenly going, Draco pushed Harry’s face harder into the wall, then rolled his eyes when the boy moaned. It really was impossible to deal with the mutt. Fighting was sex. Talking shit was sex. Fuck, breathing quietly while reading a book was probably sex to Potter. The boy was a goddamn slut, and the idea of being his mate was damn fucking appealing.

“You know, Wolfie, I could always go find that pack of wild dogs you keep talking about, and let one of them pick me for a mate,” Harry taunted silkily. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind a quick ride with Remi.”

“First of all, Potter, I mentioned the fucking pack of street dogs once—once! And you can’t fucking let it go,” Draco grumbled, licking between his fingers that were currently keeping Harry’s face in place and catching the boy’s lips. “Secondly, if you’re that fucking hard up for dog dick, then by all means. You’ll likely need the whole pack to replace me though, seeing how my pretty white wolf fills you just the fuck enough, and then a fucking couple hours more, for good measure.”

Harry gave a soft whimper at the reminder, tongue reaching out, catching on Draco’s palm and moving between the fingers spread by his mouth. “I didn’t say that, Wolfie. I just said if you didn’t want to be my mate…”

“Did I say I didn’t want to be your mate?” Draco asked lowly, tongue slipping out again and touching the tip of Harry’s lightly.

Harry blinked, eyelashes fluttering as he tried to think back to their conversation, his mind a little addled by the sudden tongues and hand to his face… not to mention Draco’s words of earlier… “I remember something about plates being eaten off of… less than my ass…”

Draco smirked, his hand leaving the boy’s face and moving down to brush Harry’s neck instead, fingers curling lightly as he stroked his throat. “The giant squid doesn’t have enough tentacles to fill the fucking gaping hole in your ass…”

Deranged smile very firmly back in place, Harry snickered, chin tilting up to give Draco more access to his throat as the boy dipped down and licked him.

“The fucking school snitch has been caught less times in its history than you’ve been jerked off… or jerked on, for that matter…”

Harry groaned, eyes closing. “Fuck… okay…”

“Actually, I bet if I were to check your pretty pink hole, I might find that the whole goddamn Gryffindor quidditch team has had a ride in there.”

“Ha… ah… funny, dickhead…”

Draco raised an eyebrow, leaning up again to meet Harry’s eye. “Wasn’t joking. They’re so far up your ass as it is, I can only imagine they know it personally.”

Harry panted softly, eyes gleaming wickedly. “The only one up my ass on the field is you, mostly because you’re behind me when I’m winning.”

“Could just really like the view…” Draco murmured, kissing the boy slowly.

Harry pulled away. “Nope, pretty sure I’m just awesome.” He gave Draco an assessing look, biting his lip as he thought. “Wolfie… lets go somewhere. And I can show you some stuff… and you can decide if you might be willing to try it once—just once, to join the pack and be my mate.”

Draco’s wolf was whining in his ear again, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember why.

“And you know… if you happen to like it…” Harry smirked, face flushed as he tugged on Draco’s arms, pulling the boy down the corridor. “Well, I’m sure you could think of some creative ways to deal with that. Maybe even with my mutt…”

The boy was full out blushing, and Draco had to wonder if Harry had been thinking about this for a while now. “I don’t know how to break it to you, but my wolf is really not into—”

Harry turned, eyes a bit wide and kissed him quickly. “Didn’t mean the wolf.”

Ah. Eyebrows permanently stuck somewhere in his hairline, Draco stared at the now completely red Harry, face, neck, and likely chest flushed as well. “And why would you think…?”

“Um… so I had asked Siri how he had learned that trick,” Harry mumbled softly, staring at Draco’s chin. “And it seemed, although in every other way a total alpha, manly wolf, uh, Remi lets Padfoot…” He trailed off, waving his hand.

That the boy could do so many nasty things with the four legged creatures and yet still not say something as simple as ‘fuck’ unless halfway in the act of said fucking or cursing rudely, was beyond Draco. It was damn endearing, though. “You’re telling me the werewolf spreads for the dog, but not for Black?”

Harry nodded, eyes bright, lips parted again. “Yeah… Remi told me he likes it a lot… that I shouldn’t feel bad for liking it, because it’s just that fucking good…” Harry swallowed, open mouth pressing to Draco’s cheek. “So I thought, maybe you might…?”

Draco really had no idea if he ever might ever consider that as something to do, no matter how much Harry blushed. “I think you better focus on trying to convince me of the one time problem first, Mutt,” he said, his voice sounding a bit too hoarse in his ears.

Harry smirked, once again that crazy look glinting in his eye. “’Cus you want to be my mate,” he taunted, licking his lips.

“No, I want to make sure you don’t go off to live on the fucking city streets with that pack you’re obsessed with, you hopeless slut,” Draco growled.

“Oh, I think you want to be my mate…”

“Yeah, well I think you want to ride hippogriff dick.”

Harry laughed breathlessly, eyes hazy as Draco once again pushed him up against the wall. “Fuck… well you make it sound so fucking appealing…”

“You’ve got problems, Potter,” Draco murmured, biting the boy’s jaw lightly.

Harry shook his head, a soft moan escaping his panting lips. “My only problem is not having you inside me right this fucking second, Malfoy. Everything else about me is fucking fine.”

“Fine… tight… begging for it…” Draco agreed, nipping Harry’s neck sharply.

“Oh, I can beg, Wolfie. If that’s what you want…” Harry whispered, wetting his lips when Draco turned his way again.

Staring at the flushed boy, Draco was fairly certain he was making the wrong move here, and could not, for the life of him, remember why that was. “Beg me, Harry. Let me fucking hear it.”

“On my knees?” Harry asked, slowly sliding down his body before Draco could answer. Breathing in sharply, Draco braced his arms on the wall as he stared down at the incredibly sexy boy.

“Please, Draco. Please be my mate. Please join my pack, and have me every day, every time you want to, anyway you want to, any form you want to. I need you—all of you—to make me feel right.”

It was the stillness that did it, Harry’s wicked glint long gone from him as he looked up at Draco in genuine vulnerability. He really should have listened to his wolf, Draco realized weakly, even as he fell to his knees and kissed Harry as deeply and demandingly as he needed.

“Okay, Harry, I’ll do it,” Draco whispered hoarsely, nearly knocked to the ground by the force of Harry’s returning hug. “So you’ll be my mate. Always.”

“Thank you, Draco,” Harry beamed, mouth buried around his ear.

Draco nodded, pulling back to stare at the tears brimming in the boy’s eyes. “Because I love you.” Before Harry could start bawling, which he was very prone to do when hearing those particular words from Draco, he surged forward and kissed the brunette swiftly.

There would probably be some issues at home with mating with Harry, likely Draco being disowned or just threatened with death. But Draco figured having a pack meant having a place to stay if that happened. And hell, having a mate meant having far larger concerns than caring what his parents thought about things. It meant taking care of Harry, keeping him from his fucked up relatives, and any stray beast that might think to hurt or have his scrappy little mutt.

Those were problems Draco was more than happy to deal with, just to see Harry smile like he was right then.

Draco was far less interested in facing the trouble of having to join the pack. But Harry had a particularly heated look in his eye, and Draco imagined the boy might just know a thing or two about how a hole might enjoy being filled. Actually, Draco was fairly certain Harry had a damn many good ideas on it, and decided to think up some clever lines to go along with what Harry had to have been up to get such experience—likely starting with the hippogriff.

SCENE #Threats of fashion

Lucius had never been a fan of ill fitting clothes. The human body, in all its many shapes and sizes, could always be wrapped just right to flatter. A dart here, a long line there—It didn’t take much, but it was the type of magic that had to be achieved perfectly each time through a skilled eye and unwavering hand, or disaster could befall. Some bodies could get away with more. Lucius knew because he had such a body; tall, muscular, with impeccable grace and posture.

Other bodies… Well, Lucius did not truly understand what it was about Harry Potter’s body that defied the laws of magic when it came to clothing, just that it seemed to happen every day, and in his own manor.

How the boy had come to be there, sleeping in a room off of Draco’s during the summer months, was less of a mystery. Apparently Potter’s relatives were a bit imbecilic. They had gone so far as to label the boy a Satanist, and bar him from ever entering the house again. This had been during the beginning of that particular summer, and in the middle of the night. Lucius had begrudgingly apparated down with Draco, his ever persistent son who had finally managed to get a handshake from Potter and grow a friendship.

Potter had been dressed atrociously. Lucius knew he should have cared more about the fact that the young man was sitting in the driveway on his trunk, looking as if he might have been near tears at one point. He had admitted a tendril of warmth when the boy had glanced up from his morose perch, caught sight of the two Malfoys, and beamed so brightly the night had cleared for a small moment. But then Lucius had noticed the billowing, ratty t-shirt, oversized, baggy jeans cuffed at the ankles to keep Potter from tripping, and plainly disgusting sneakers with holes likely larger than the boy’s feet. The warmth had left Lucius as had, apparently, his sanity.

The Dursleys’ car would not work from that day forward. They were not complex machines, but that particular automobile became a lemon the night Lucius had to bare witness to such a terrifying outfit, and how it somehow managed to make the owner of such hideous garb appear delectable. Lucius should have seen it as the omen that it was and left the little hell-spawn there in the driveway, glowing green eyes, lush red mouth, and hideous, atrocious clothes and all. But Draco was unrelenting; they were already there, Draco had been lonely with his mother living at her sister’s, and the manor certainly held enough space.

Potter had also been extremely polite, in an annoying, roguish sort of way. He had clasped Lucius’s hand, lips curled up in a crooked smile as he said thank you. Lucius knew though, as wide eyed and genuine as he had seemed, the boy was inwardly taunting him. One did not wear clothing like that, the way Potter managed to wear them, while not taunting the hell out of him.

Lucius was also certain of this fact today as he sat at the small kitchen table reading his morning paper. It was six in the morning, the time when Lucius enjoyed the quiet of the approaching day, warmth radiating through the windows to steal away the cold of the night. He was used to being alone during this time, Narcissa and Draco always sleeping in late. Lucius enjoyed the silence, where he could think, and feel, and not be distracted by the bustle of others.

Apparently their new house guest was prone to nightmares. A former associate of Lucius’s, back from when he had been young, desperate, and still his father’s son, had tried to kill the boy. Riddle had managed to kill both of Potter’s parents, but the toddler had proven a match too great, and Lucius had gotten the opportunity to seek better associates as a result. That said boy was gracing his kitchen niche, tartan plaid pajama pants hanging too low below a t-shirt that had to be two sizes too small, was an irony not lost on the man.

The colors were very much wrong, calamitous to Lucius’s senses, and to the senses of any respectable being that could sense in the first place. It did not matter that the boy was unusually quiet—Well, not unusual. Potter barely seemed to speak a word unless spoken to, green eyes always skirting around, crooked smile twisting his lush lips as he took in the many differences of Malfoy Manor to his former abode. The boy was nearly companionable compared to the constant chatter of Lucius’s family. That said, the outfit was loud enough. A marching band leading a circus would have been quieter than the cacophonous mix of red and gold plaid pants, and bright—Lucius stressed the word bright—orange t-shirt.

It was burning a hole through his newspaper, the shirt was that luminous. Lucius could not focus on anything else, the horrible neon color drawing his eye and keeping it as Harry padded barefoot around the kitchen island, steaming cup of tea in hand while he peered out the window at the garden. That such a color existed was tragedy enough, but to put it on a shirt? Lucius had done some terrible things in his time, including torturing a family of muggles in the name of some antiquated idea of pureblood supremacy. This shirt was a hate crime. Against life.

That is was too small, had a large hole in the back where the collar had come apart from the rest of the material to gap golden skin, only revealed that Potter was also a lunatic. Because he was holding onto the damn atrocity. It was falling apart, no longer fit him, and the boy still insisted on wearing it to bed. Maybe the boy was colorblind?

Maybe the boy was just blind?

Lucius put his paper down, debating if leaving and showering was the answer to this hideous shirt. Green eyes glanced his way from the sound of the folded paper, then quickly returned to the window. Instantly Lucius knew the boy had to have been doing it on purpose. The shirt was too terrible to not be an accident. Such alarming things did not happen by accident.

“Potter, if you are going to grace my kitchen with your presence, I would kindly ask that you dress appropriately,” Lucius said evenly, trying to keep the exhaustion out of his voice that such a shirt had wrought him.

Blinking, Harry turned, head crooked sideways. “Sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but what do you mean?” He looked down at himself, fingering the hem of his soft t-shirt, palm ghosting lightly over the gap of flesh revealed beneath the neon color. “The Dursleys would get pissed if I walked around in boxers, but they never seemed upset by my pajamas.”

Something in the words caught Lucius’s attention, and a vision of Harry walking around his kitchen in nothing but boxers flashed in his mind. He wasn’t certain if the idea was appealing only because Lucius could see that the boy had hard, long lines of blossoming muscle underneath smooth, tanned skin, or because it meant the hideous shirt would be gone. He did not have a conclusive answer, but Lucius was certain he hated the shirt.

“If I see that shirt again, I am going to burn it,” Lucius promised, meeting the boy’s wide eyes. “Whether you are wearing it at the time or not.”

Biting his lip, Harry placed his mug down on the counter beside the widow. “Er… I don’t really have a lot of clothes, Sir. I’m sorry I’m not as fancy as you guys, but I really can’t go around naked just because you don’t like my hand-me-downs…”

Lucius was distractedly now envisioning Harry naked, the boxers discarded somewhere at the foot of the table. It was a very appealing thought, especially since the little table would likely fit the boy just so between the plate of bacon and the eggs…

Fire rushing through Lucius, his mouth went dry, and stomach twisted in lust. He tightened his hands into fists, praying he would not do something extremely foolish over this horribly dressed urchin. “Potter, go away.”

“Oh… okay…” Hand tangled in his mess of hair, Harry turned, slowly padding from the kitchen, eyes skittering towards Lucius as he passed.

“Potter,” Lucius growled, the boy jumping in response even though nearly out the door.

“Y-Yes, Mr. Malfoy?” Harry asked, eyes again wide and stunningly green against the flush on his cheeks.

Lucius pointed to the counter where Harry had left his tea. “Ah… right… that. Sorry,” Harry mumbled, slowly walking back to retrieve his forgotten drink. He brought the mug to his lips, dark lashes downcast as he sipped the steaming brew.

Lucius could feel Harry glancing, stolen little touches with his intense gaze while the boy lingered in the kitchen for as long as he could get away with. He did his best to focus on his newspaper, having already read the same paragraph countless times—The happenings of the Ministry just really couldn’t compete with that damn day glow orange, never mind the unearthly green that kept gliding over him. Lucius was just about to get up and go to escape said unbearable colors when the boy gave a soft sigh, placed his drained mug into the sink, and began to rinse it.

“So… do you think you could tell me what it is about the shirt that makes you want to burn it?” Harry asked quietly, hand lingering on the counter top as he turned back to Lucius.

Lucius glared, his jaw tightening. “What, so you’ll go out and buy another one? I think not.”

“Er… that wasn’t why… Mr. Malfoy, I really don’t understand you,” Harry muttered, holding the back of his neck, which had turned a lovely shade of red to match the boy’s cheeks.

“You have been warned, Potter. Now take your abysmal shirt and get out of my sight.”

Huffing, Harry nodded and turned. “Okaaaay…”

Harry pulled at the hem of his shirt as he walked, staring at the faded white letters on the front while the hem rode up on his back, revealing a gap that would have fit both of Lucius’s hands if he had been close enough to touch. Lucius almost got up just to see if his measurements were accurate. Surely it was important to know how many times his hands would fit the length of the boy’s slender waist and back. And then he shook himself, glaring at his paper and wishing he had never allowed Draco to convince him to let the boy stay.

SCENE #A terrifying makeover

“Your clothes are really terrible,” Draco offered unhelpfully while peering in through a shop window where the latest broom models were hovering. “And you know Father. He has very refined tastes.”

Harry scratched his head, sighing softly. “Yeah… but he seemed really… I dunno… Like I was doing it on purpose, you know?” Harry was fairly certain Lucius had been about to drag him out the door by his pajama top and lock him out in the yard. And although the idea of the breathtakingly handsome man grabbing him by the collar had been appealing, the being left out on the lawn had been less so, and Harry was concerned he was going to have to find another place to stay if he could not figure out this problem.

“Just ignore him. Father has been on edge since the separation. Mother has been… difficult, what with taking up with Aunt Bella and going all blood hate crazy again. Hell, it’s hard on me. I’m sure it’s even harder on Father.”

Frowning, Harry put a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. He was being selfish, focusing on his own pointless fears when Draco was dealing with so much crap. Waking up to your mother going mad and wanting to kill muggles was just a bit much. It was hardly the typical midlife crisis Harry had heard about. Harry would just make a point not to wear the orange shirt around Lucius and hopefully things would work themselves out.

“Did you want to go check out the joke shop?” Harry asked, tilting his head enticingly until Draco’s eyes lost their far away look and the pale boy smirked.

“Lorna still working there?” Draco asked, perking up at the thought of seeing the pretty witch.

“I do believe she is…” Harry hummed.

“You know, that is one of the bigger perks of having a poof for a best friend,” Draco drawled, smirking wider at Harry’s eye roll. “No competition. Hell, I think you even help me lure them in with your boy-who-lived crap.”

“Well, I’m glad I can be of service,” Harry said with a snort. “Gotta do something to make up for your generosity.”

Draco shrugged, eyes losing focus again. “He really said he would burn it… while you were wearing it?”

Harry nodded, his good spirits fading. Yes, Draco was a generous person, but it was Lucius that had made everything possible. Getting on the man’s bad side was not ideal to Harry’s living situation. “Maybe I should be looking into renting an apartment? You know, be a grown up about things and all. I have the funds.”

“That’s no fun,” Draco declared loudly, pushing into Harry with his shoulder. “I like having you around—And there’s no way Father is going to let me go off and move out while mother is threatening to steal me away and raise me crazy. I’m sure he was just in one of his moods. I’ll talk to him, okay?”

“Er, don’t do that… I feel like making a big deal out of it will only make it worse,” Harry muttered.

Draco nodded, eyes lighting over the store fronts. “Maybe we should get you some new clothes?”

Harry glowered, shoving his hands into his pockets and following Draco’s gaze. “I don’t like… Shopping for clothes is difficult for me.”

“Come on, Harry, you need a damn bathing suit—What’s the point of having a huge swimming pool if you’re not going to swim in it?” It had been a sore topic since Harry had moved in, one that Harry had refused to explain.

Meeting Draco’s very determined expression, Harry huffed. “If I can get a bathing suit without having to try it on, then fine. And I want a shirt.”

“Is this about your stupid scars? For fuck sake, Potter, you can barely see the damn things.”

Harry bit his lip, glaring silently until Draco backed down.

“Fine, but I get to pick out the one you get.” Draco finally relented, pointing across the street to the clothing store he felt best for this particular endeavor. Harry followed reluctantly behind, ignoring Draco’s haughty expression when the boy waited a good twenty seconds holding the door before Harry finally stepped into the store.

“Stop looking like you’re about to get hexed,” Draco growled, pulling Harry by the arm towards the racks of summer wear. The store was charmed to be a cool relief to the summer heat outside, the air smelling of sandalwood and incense. It probably would have been soothing, but Harry’s heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. Draco had said he wouldn’t have to try the clothes on, still Harry’s palms were sweating, eyes jumping around as if expecting some monster to jump out from the racks of clothing.

Other than Madam Malkin’s, Harry had never gotten clothes for himself. He had tried once, last year when getting his new school robes. He had thought maybe it was time to start wearing clothes that weren’t remnants of Dudley’s slimmer days. But once getting into the fitting room for the first time, a small closet with mirrors and door, Harry had experienced his first panic attack, and quickly decided he was never going to go through that again.

He wasn’t sure exactly what had panicked him about the situation. Harry had been in smaller, darker rooms—He had lived under the stairs for years, after all. And mirrors had never really frightened Harry, except maybe when he was little and he had wondered if another world was staring back at him. When he had taken off his shirt and seen for the first time up close the many white scars littering his back from Vernon’s favorite belt, Harry had stared. And then he had found he couldn’t breath. And then he had known he would not be buying clothes ever again.

That feeling was rising in him now, the difficulty to draw air into his lungs, his breathing too shallow no matter how hard he tried.

“What do you think about this style?” Draco asked, holding up a white pair of shorts.

Harry shrugged, finding it difficult to concentrate. “Whatever—just not white.”

“Well, what colors do you like?” Draco grumbled, Harry sounding too snappish for comfort.

“Anything—Here, this.” Harry pulled the closest bathing suit he could find out and held it up.

“That’s a triple extra large and covered in palm trees… Are you sure you’re gay, Potter? I’m pretty sure there is some prerequisite where you have to be at least this fashionable before you can bone another bloke.” He held his fingers together, the amount of fashion needed not much at all, but apparently Harry lacked it.

“Guess I’ll have to pass my gay card to you, Malfoy. I could never compete with so much style.” Harry put the monstrosity back on the rack and pulled another one out. It was black, it was a large, it was fine. “Here. Let’s pay and get the hell out.”

“Nope, still got to find you a shirt,” Draco said, turning and moving towards the other side of the store.

Harry whined internally, jumping from one foot to the other. He didn’t want to be there. He wanted to leave, leave, leave! He flinched away, Draco suddenly in front of him holding a shirt.

“Quit wiggling—Gah! You bloody bastard, you nearly bit me!” Draco grabbed Harry by the shoulder, snarling his patented ‘do as I fucking say’ snarl. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re a medium or a large. Everything you wear is so damn big I can’t remember. Stop being a child!”

Harry stuck his tongue out, but let Draco pat his enormous shirt down and then hold the shirt up to him. “Alright… this is the best we’re going to get without taking you to a proper tailor. Give me your wallet and get lost. I’m buying you more than you want, and you’re only getting in my way.”

“Draco, this is stupid…” Harry did whine this time, then quickly stepped back before his friend could smack him.

“Shut up and give me your money.” Growling, Harry handed his wallet over. Then, remembering what Draco had said, smiled brightly. “So, I’ll be outside then, if you need me.”

Draco just waved his hand absentmindedly, rooting through racks and pulling clothes out.

SCENE #Tea and taunts

Harry stumbled to the kitchen in what he thought was a more appropriate outfit the next morning. There were no holes in his pajamas and he was not wearing the orange shirt Lucius had vehemently told him he would burn if seen again. But his head was bothering him, having woken from another nightmare, so he was not surprised when Draco’s father began to glare at him the moment he walked into the kitchen for a soothing cup of tea. Clearly he had messed something up again.

Harry tried to make the best of it, taking in the beautiful view of the gardens Malfoy Manor was famous for. He sipped his tea, hoping to shake his nightmare from him. It was the one from the cupboard—The cupboard ones all blurred together. They were all dark and full of hopelessness and the inability to escape. Harry wasn’t sure why he was dreaming them more now, once free of the Dursleys. But maybe that’s when you were supposed to think of the bad times? When you were finally free of them.

Lucius was rustling his paper heatedly and Harry found himself again glancing towards the man. Although he had very little to say to Lucius, Harry enjoyed looking at him. He was very much a work of art, like one of those old Greek statues, alabaster skin and aristocratic features. Except Lucius’s eyes were a piercing pale, pale blue, like a wolf ready to strike. The man sent shivers down Harry’s spine just looking at him. But that was all Harry thought to do with the man, Lucius very much hating him and, of course, Draco’s father.

Harry heard the slight growl and then inhale before Lucius finally broke down and said his name. “Potter.”

Harry turned halfway from the window, raising his brows in question. The man was glaring, penetrating, and Harry felt that familiar tremor go up his spine from the look. Lucius totally purred when he talked, especially in the morning, voice still raspy from sleep. He hadn’t shaved yet and Harry took in the bristle on the man’s jaw, wondering what it would feel like against the sensitive skin of his stomach, or better yet, his thighs.

Sipping his tea to hide his blush, Harry waited patiently for whatever insult was due to make its way from Lucius’s entrancing mouth.

“You’ve finished off the orange cinnamon. I would appreciate if you would inform me of when we are running low,” Lucius muttered, throwing the empty box of tea bags across the table.

Harry blinked, staring down at his tea woefully. Crap. “Sorry, Mr. Malfoy. I can go pick some up today, if you’d like…”

“No, that’s hardly appropriate of a house guest,” Lucius snapped. Harry flinched from the obvious insult, because clearly he was not the right sort of house guest in any sense, even when trying to fix things.

Harry froze, eyes widening as Lucius suddenly stood, empty mug of tea in hand. He was heading straight for Harry and the sink next to him, and Harry had only a moment to decide if he should move or continue to freeze. His body seemed content to stand there like a slack jawed idiot, so he went with his first instinct, watching as Lucius stalked around him with a sniff.

“Potter, that shirt is nearly as bad as the last one.”

Harry glanced down at his old band t-shirt. He preferred the softer, smaller ones for bed, less likely to tangle and get lost in the extra folds of materials when thrashing from nightmares. It was a light pistachio green with blue lettering and white line art. It didn’t seem anything like the orange one he had been wearing the other night.

“What’s wrong with it? It doesn’t have any holes,” he said a little defensively, glancing at the man who had turned from the sink to glare at his shirt.

“It most certainly does—Are you blind? Wait, don’t answer that. It might actual justify some of your wardrobe choices and I don’t think I could live with that.”

Lucius was an ass. Glaring back at the man, Harry looked down, one hand pulling at the hem of his shirt to find this so called hole. “There’s no hole.”

“There are many holes—Here.” Lucius grabbed the front of Harry’s shirt, Harry gasping and nearly spilling his tea. Staring down at the man’s large hand, Harry tried to see where Lucius was pointing. But it was very difficult, the room spinning and the man exuding heat like a furnace that Harry just wanted to press against.

“I… uh, I don’t see any holes…” Harry whispered, refusing to look up at the eyes he could feel burning into him. Lucius shifted his hand ever so slightly and then Harry saw them, three small pin pricks of darkness against the pattern of green, blue and white. “Oh…”

“Eloquent as always, I see,” Lucius drawled, smoothing Harry’s shirt back down, fingers lingering on the planes of his stomach and drawing a small gasp from Harry.

Eyes stuck on the floor, Harry took another swig of his tea, nearly choking when Lucius suddenly touched the center of his back, finger touching his bare skin and sending a jolt of electricity through him. “You also have a hole right here and much easier to see, if you ever bothered to look behind you.”

Harry nodded, very much wishing the man would go away so he could stop feeling like a puddle of heat and mush. “I wear it to bed, so it doesn’t matter.”

Lucius was leaning near his neck, Harry swallowing as he felt the man’s breath brush against his skin. Lucius was about half a head taller than Harry normally, and was currently leaning down to glare at his shirt. “You don’t think what you wear to bed is important? I feel sorry for any lover you may have—Hopefully they’re as colorblind as you are.”

“I’ve yet to have that problem,” Harry mumbled, eyes glancing to where he could see the man’s hand hovering, as if about to touch his shoulder and another hole that was apparently in his shirt.

“They all have perfect vision?” Lucius queried, his finger slowly pressing down and slipping through the ripple of fabric to touch Harry’s skin.

Harry choked back a cough, feeling extremely hot all of a sudden. Why the man kept insisting on touching him while insulting him was just extra infuriating. “No… I just haven’t had… a l-lover…”

“I find that hard to believe, Potter.” Yeah, Lucius definitely purred in the morning. Sipping his drink again, the last of his favorite tea, Harry just shrugged, the move brushing his shoulder up against Lucius’s chest. Why the hell was he so close, anyways?

Harry didn’t really care if Lucius believed him or not. It really wasn’t a topic of conversation he felt like having with the man. He blinked, Lucius suddenly reaching around him to grab his mug. “Hey… I’m not done with that.”

“You took the last of my favorite tea,” Lucius growled, plucking the cup from his grasp. Harry did turn his head this time, meeting the challenging gray eyes. Lucius looked particularly nice in the morning up close, beard just hinting at his jaw, long white blond hair a little rumpled and loose, clear eyes just a tad hazy with sleep. If the man didn’t look like he was going to kill him, Harry would have liked to have seen just how soft his hair really was.

“This is because of my shirt, isn’t it?”

“The orange one, yes.” Lucius agreed. “This one isn’t as bad… but it’s still hideous.”

Harry glared, watching the man leave while drinking the rest of his tea. Lucius was a total ass. Harry turned his glare to the window, wishing he didn’t feel so flushed. His heart was racing again, nearly as fast as when he had freaked out in the dressing room. His clothing and Lucius Malfoy just did not mix.

SCENE #drowned and bloody

Fingers rising to the bridge of his nose, Lucius exhaled slowly. There was a sopping wet Harry Potter dripping on his grandmother’s antique, oriental rug. Right in the center of it, as if the little drowned cat was making sure to soak as much as he could in as little time as possible. That Lucius hated the rug was immaterial. It was most definitely the spirit of the act that was so annoying.

“Potter, is there a particular reason you are flooding my house?” Lucius asked darkly, stalking into the room the boy was waiting in. Harry whirled, ridiculously wide eyes somehow wider without their normal veil of glasses and red mouth much redder since blood was pouring down his chin.

“S-Sorry, Mr. Malfoy. Draco wasss just getting me sssomething for the cut…”

Lucius closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out the way Harry was sweetly lisping. Of course the boy was injured. It was all he seemed to do since arriving—Eat food, wear offensive clothing, and bleed. Today’s offensive clothing wasn’t as bad as normal, black and nearly fitting the boy as it clung to his body, drenched. Actually, it was almost decent and Lucius paused, eyes skirting past said clothing to notice the form it so greedily clung to.

“Harry, I can’t find the—Oh, Father. Great, could you heal him?” Draco asked, wand twirling in his hands. “You know how bad I am with restorative magic and we’re out of the charms we keep for emergencies.”

Harry blushed, shivering in the cool manor air as he remembered all of the emergency charms that had been used on him over the last month. He could not see Lucius’s glare without his glasses, but he could certainly feel it pricking over his skin.

Lucius was glaring, but it was at his son this time. Draco was smirking in a very cocky way, and he was not sure why but it seemed like trouble.

“Do you approve of Harry’s clothes, Father? I imagine you’ll be less incited to burn these.” Draco smirked, watching his father stiffen.

“Draco, get your friend a towel… Make that many towels,” Lucius said warningly. His son was nearly as annoying as Harry was, and he was glad to get the menace out of the room. “Potter, let me see the wound.”

Harry stepped over unsteadily, bare feet sloshing on the carpet—Literally sloshing, he had managed to get that much pool water in it. Biting his tongue to keep from yelling, Lucius grabbed the boy too roughly by the jaw, bending down to look at the damage.

“Where is the—Of course…” Lucius drawled in exasperation. He could not find the source of the blood until Harry smiled unsteadily, revealing a broken front tooth and bloodied inner lip. “That you have managed to not murder yourself in your sleep is amazing enough, Potter.”

“Hey—It’s not like it was on purpossse!” Harry snapped, fresh blood dripping down his chin. “I dived too deep and hit my tooth on the bottom of the pool.”

“Yes, you managed not to drown yourself and instead drenched my carpet, bled all over the floors, and begrimed my pool in one go. You are definitely the victim in all this,” Lucius muttered, holding the boy’s jaw tighter.

Harry gave a soft hiss from the firm hold, eyes fluttering shut. Lucius, who had been reaching for his wand, froze, gaze caught on the unguarded face. Even soaking wet, Potter’s hair was a mess, sticking up in sharp points from his head, brushing over his forehead and in a way that seemed intentional to hide his scar. His skin was clear, olive and dripping crystal drops of water. Heavy brows framed his seemingly heavier dark lashes, which fluttered with each small breath the boy took. If Lucius didn’t know better, he would think Potter was trying very hard not to panic, his breathing very shallow and quick.

Bringing his wand up, Lucius relaxed his grip on the boy’s jaw, using his hand to probe fingers over the bloodied flesh of Harry’s lip. The cut had swollen the lush bottom lip even more, and Lucius pressed his thumb to the swell, watching as the boy’s breath caught. Maybe the little drowned cat was afraid of him? He certainly had reason to be. Lucius had hardly been nice… Well, besides opening up his entire house to the pain in the ass.

Or maybe the little troublemaker just enjoyed fingers touching his lips… Gently thumbing Harry’s red lip down, Lucius caught sight of the cut it revealed. It did not look too serious, for all the blood it had released. “You shouldn’t need stitches.”

“Oh… okay…” Harry breathed out, eyes half opening. Only to widen, finding Lucius very close as the man examined his lip. He swallowed hard, tasting blood and… Oh hell… Tongue flicking forward, Harry gasped, tasting Lucius’s fingertip.

Lucius took a deep breath, nostrils flaring from the ghosting of a touch. The boy was turning red; face, neck, and likely everywhere else. Did the boy flush completely when embarrassed? Would he if aroused?

“Stay still, Potter.”

Harry stiffened, his breathing increasing in speed as he tried to keep from moving. His entire body was tingling, especially his lips where Lucius was touching. It took everything in him not to lick his tongue forward again. There was no way Lucius would approve of such a thing, and Harry was already in trouble with the man. Of course, the more he thought how he shouldn’t, the more compelled he felt to actually do it, and Harry whined internally as he tried to control himself.

Lucius carefully placed his wand to Harry’s lip, wondering idly if the boy would lick that as well while casting the healing spell. Noticing for the first time that Harry had managed to also soak him with water while in the process of healing the brat, Lucius took the hem of Harry’s wet shirt and began wiping up the blood on the boy’s chin. Coincidentally giving Lucius a clear view of Harry’s flat stomach—The boy had just the beginning of hard muscle on his abs, not over done, but certainly revealing strength.

No new blood appeared, but Lucius checked the cut again because Harry wasn’t complaining and his lips were very much delicious to touch. Harry gave another gasp, eyes downcast, and Lucius couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, that was the more pressing one.”

Harry swayed, feeling light headed and very stupid for reacting to the man that clearly hated him so much. Lucius had a wife—Even if they were separated. The man had a son, and you didn’t get one of those without liking women. And yes, Lucius totally hated him.

Lucius straightened, glaring down at his wet clothes. “Now that you’re done bleeding on everything, go dry yourself off. I’ll repair your tooth once I’ve cleaned up the mess in here.”

“S-Sorry, Mr. Malfoy. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to make a mess,” Harry mumbled, looking around at the wet floor.

“And yet…” Lucius turned from the vexing thing, trying to get the boy’s scent out of his mind.

Just then, Blaise and Pansy burst in, laughing and having the decency to not be soaking wet in the house. “Harry, are you ready—Oh, hi, Mr. Malfoy.” Pansy gave a seductive grin, pulling away from her friend to wave coyly at the man. Harry rolled his eyes, exchanging glances with Blaise. Hopefully Draco would get there soon enough to stop the train-wreck that was Pansy whenever around the elder Malfoy.

“You alright, then?” Blaise asked, peering at Harry’s chin.

“Yeah, Draco’s dad took care of it. I gotta go change, and then he’ll fix my too—th!” Harry flinched on the last word, a shrill whistle escaping from around the broken tooth.

“Ha, you should leave it. Maybe you’ll find some special guy that likes the waif, lisping boy thing.”

“Gross,” Harry grumbled, playfully shoving Blaise away. Blaise squawked, his entire side now soaked by Harry.

“I just dried off!” He swatted at the spot, debating if it was worth going to get his wand over. “Harry, give me your shirt. You have half the pool in that thing, and the rest on the floor.”

Harry stiffened, grabbing the hem of his wet shirt and pulling it down his body tightly, managing to spray more water at the same time. “I’m just going to go change, that’s all…”

Pansy, who was being ignored by Lucius while the man spelled the rug dry, walked over to them, tugging at Harry’s shirt. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like we haven’t seen it all before. You’re acting like some self conscious fat girl. And I would know, seeing as I used to be fat.”

“And now you’re fabulous, and we’re all happy for you, Pans. But I really don’t want to take my shirt off, and I’m going now,” Harry said as cheerfully as he could, backing away from his two well intentioned friends.

“Leave him alone,” Draco snapped, walking into the room and throwing a towel at Harry.

“Hey, we’re just trying to help.” Pansy held her hands up apologetically. “He’s never going to catch himself a nice boyfriend and move out of your house if he’s afraid to show off what Merlin gave him.”

Harry scowled, ruffling his hair with the soft, white towel and turning from the group. “I’m not trying to catch anyone. I am perfectly fine on my own, so mind your bloody business.”

“Potter.”

Harry jumped, eyes widening when Lucius suddenly grabbed him by the arm. “S-Sir?”

Giving Harry a calculating look, Lucius raised his wand and cast a no drip spell on the boy. “Stop destroying my house.”

“Er… yes, Sir.” Blushing, Harry turned and shuffled out the door.

SCENE #In retrospect, the worst idea

“Could you at least attempt to be nice to him?”

“Draco, I am doing the best that I can. The boy is a menace.”

“Father, he is going through hell right now, and you are not helping matters. I brought him here because I wanted him to feel safe. He’s terrified of you.”

“Hmph, likely just the side effect of a guilty conscience.”

“That’s not fair. Harry has done nothing wrong. That he has put up with your uncalled for rudeness is amazing enough. What’s your problem with him, anyways? Did he piss in your tea or something? How can you be so normal and nice to everyone else, but an absolute jerk to him?”

Pansy and Blaise exchanged looks while Harry hung his head, stooped over in his pool chair. The two Malfoys had been arguing for the last five minutes, specifically about Harry. That the study window was wide open was only making things much more awkward—If that were possible. Harry had come down, dry and ready to get his tooth fixed, only to find father and son had locked themselves away to have a proper family spat.

“Shit, so I was totally jealous of you being able to live here with that freaking gorgeous hunk of Malfoy man-meat in there,” Pansy admitted to Harry. “But seeing how he totally seems to want to kill you… Not so sure anymore. Lucius is, well, wow—Freaking handsome, and strong, and totally knows how to treat a lady. But when he’s angry, he’s scary.”

Harry shrugged noncommittally. Yeah, Lucius was fucking hot, but he was also an ass whenever Harry was around, and that should probably make him less appealing. It didn’t, Lucius very much extra sexy when his gray-blue eyes were flashing and glaring Harry down. And that Draco thought Harry was afraid was just, well, a relief. He had no interest in his friend, or his friend’s father, ever finding out that Harry was totally just frozen in lust every time Lucius did or said something particularly mean.

That the two were arguing about Harry was more concerning, and he wondered again if maybe it was time to go rent an apartment. Harry hadn’t really thought much about what he was going to do after the Dursleys had kicked him out. He still had one more year of Hogwarts, and he figured he’d know by graduation. But having Draco fight with his father because the man couldn’t get along with Harry seemed more trouble than it was worth. Harry didn’t want the boy to ruin his friendship with his dad—Especially since his mother had become unavailable.

Huffing, Harry stood, walking towards the house and the arguing voices.

“Threatening to burn him in his clothes is not acceptable, Father! I don’t understand how this can be so confusing for you.”

“If you had seen the shirt you would have understood.”

“That is not an excuse to burn our house guest alive!”

Harry rapped on the door, the voices inside falling silent. After a moment, Draco answered, sighing in frustration when he saw it was Harry. “Harry, don’t do anything stupid.”

Harry pushed the door open the entire way, walking around Draco to the middle of the room.

“See, this is what I’m talking about,” Lucius muttered before Harry could even open his mouth. “Look at those pants—Hideous! No one should be caught dead wearing something like that.” Harry was wearing his only pair of jeans, all the other ones Dudley had handed down far too big to even consider wearing.

“Father, stop being such a snob. He can’t help it.”

Harry held his hand up, afraid the two of them were just going to start arguing again, but with him actually in the room. “Alright… so clearly me living here is a problem.”

“No!” Draco snapped, while Lucius answered with a resounding, “Clearly!”

Harry just nodded, not at all surprised. “Mr. Malfoy, is there a way I could persuade you to give me another chance? I could pay rent, if that’s the underlying problem. Maybe do some chores around the house?”

“Harry, that’s ridiculous,” Draco said, glaring at his father. “This isn’t about money or housework. This is about Father taking all his problems out on you.”

Harry met Lucius’s eye, the man not confirming or denying such a statement. “Listen, I don’t want to get between you two. With Narcissa gone, Draco needs you more than ever, and I don’t want to be the jerk that keeps getting everyone angry, whatever the reason. I can find sssome—” The three of them flinched as Harry whistled around his broken tooth again. “I can find a motel to crash in for now, and I can probably get an apartment within the month.”

Lucius growled, avoiding Draco’s angry glare as his son stomped up to him with hands on his hips. “He’s not going to be able to get an apartment, Father. He’s not of age, and you know it. It’ll be some terrible hole in the wall, and likely condemned by the Ministry. Or worse, muggle. The two of you are going to fix this because I will make the rest of our time together a living hell for you. I promise, and you know I keep my promises.”

“Do not threaten me…” Eyes narrowed, Lucius trailed off, knowing his pain in the ass son would very well follow through with such a promise. He instead turned his glare to the green-eyed, bewitching boy that was looking surprisingly calm and collected, given the situation. Harry’s shoulders were squared, as was his jaw, as if waiting for a devastating blow. But he was resolved, unafraid in the face of it all.

“Potter, let me see that tooth. We will figure out the rest later,” Lucius grumbled.

Draco beamed, knowing he had won. “Thank you, Father!” He exclaimed, nearly bowling Lucius over with a hug that he begrudgingly returned.

Harry did not look so relieved. “Wait, I didn’t say I was staying. I mean—You’re just going to fight again.”

“Potter, sit down and let me heal you,” Lucius snapped, waving Draco away to go tell his friends the good news.

“Er… I think I’d rather wait until you weren’t so angry before I let you anywhere near me with a wand,” Harry mumbled, taking a step back when Lucius got up from his desk.

Lucius smirked wickedly, admitting a secret thrill to the boy backing away from him in fear. “That would be a very long wait. Get over here. Now.”

Harry bristled at the order, glaring at the man. Then he swallowed, heat pooling in his stomach and turning his knees to jelly. God, why did he always get like this around Lucius? It was absolutely crazy. Being inches from the man’s disdainful, gorgeous face while getting his tooth fixed was not a good idea right now, and Harry back away another step.

Lucius only strode closer, looking all the world like a predator about to pounce. “Mr. Malfoy… I would really rather wait…” Harry whispered even as the man wrapped strong fingers around his jaw and held him still.

“I have other things to do today, Potter,” Lucius drawled smoothly, tilting Harry’s face up and pressing fingers to his red lips. Harry parted them hesitantly, certain he was somehow getting himself in a lot of trouble when Lucius leaned closer, thumb caressing his bottom lip slowly.
What would Lucius taste like? That tea he drank every morning? Or maybe the wine he had at night with his meals…? Maybe he tasted like he smelled, warm and spicy, with an underlying tang of citrus…

“There isn’t enough light. Move over to the window. Sit.”

Harry pulled away with a small gasp, closing his eyes a moment to keep the room from spinning. He had not wanted to kiss the man just then. That would be insane. He was Draco’s father, and a right bastard, and god… really fucking sexy…

“The chair,” Lucius growled when Harry insisted on staring at the floor. Jumping, Harry sat in the luxurious roller chair, eyes closing as the smell of leather and Lucius encased him. No, this was very much a bad idea.

Harry jolted, the chair moving suddenly as Lucius pulled him towards the window and the daylight glowing in. He watched silently as the man knelt to his level, eyes widening when those icy, predatory eyes fixed on his and refused to look away. Harry wanted to close his eyes, afraid every heated feeling he had could be read if Lucius just kept staring long enough. But he couldn’t look away. He felt like a small animal trapped in the eyes of the creature about to devour him, and it wasn’t a completely unpleasant feeling.

Locking the wheels in place so that Harry wouldn’t roll away and ruin the intricate spellwork, Lucius leaned forward, pressing both his thumbs to the boy’s mouth until he opened with a gasp. “You need to stay very still. Regrowing teeth can be tricky work.”

Harry didn’t say anything, certain he would babble if he did and end up messing up his tooth. But at least now he could close his eyes, and he did so with relief.

Hell, he could feel Lucius’s breath, moving over his chin, touching ever so lightly across his mouth while the man studied the tooth that needed repair. He could feel the heat of Lucius’s skin, the scent of him overpowering, leather yielding on his back and Lucius’s body very much unyielding at his front. God… this was a really fucking bad idea…

Lucius’s hand was moving over Harry’s jaw, holding him still again, pulling forward a little bit, as if maybe the man was going to kiss him. Harry kept his eyes shut, telling himself he was an absolute fool and should not want such a thing from his best friend’s father. He suppressed a sigh, the hand moving again, spreading heat as it contoured to the bottom of Harry’s chin, and then kept sliding down his throat, pausing at his Adam’s apple to feel when he swallowed.

He had to be losing his shit. Lucius was just being careless as he concentrated on his tooth… Right? Harry’s mind whirled, then froze again, Lucius’s hand moving, fingers spreading and slowly dragging around to the back of his neck. The man cupped his spine with his large hand, fingertips digging in firmly, and Harry could not suppress a shudder.

Everything had gotten very quiet, Lucius no longer whispering the words to the spell. And if he wasn’t doing that, then what the hell, exactly, was he doing with his hand on Harry’s neck while he pressed his tingling wand against his lips? Harry could feel his heart accelerating at the very thought, heat rising to his face.

Lucius didn’t have an answer for the unspoken question, having healed Harry rather easily, and now unable to pull away. He had to, there was no question about that—Not because Harry was Draco’s friend, or the same age as his son, or even the cursed destroyer of Voldemort—No, because the boy was wearing the most hideous jeans Lucius had ever had the misfortune to come across, and still managed to look fuckable in them.

“Potter.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Open your eyes.”

“Er… I’d rather not, Sir,” Harry whispered, keeping his eyes closed tight. He swallowed, Lucius’s wand moving against his lips. First, because Harry had spoken against it, and now… Well now, because Lucius was tracing his gaping mouth with it. The tingling tip moved first up, over the bow of Harry’s lips and then slowly down, pressing into the swell of his bottom lip. Harry could not stop the hitch of breath from the sensation. Or the moan that followed when the wand was suddenly pressing forward and into his mouth, tingling against his tongue and moving towards the back of his throat. “Oh fuck…”

“That is… aspiring…” Lucius purred lowly, gripping tighter on Harry’s neck. Watching the boy’s face intently, Lucius drew his wand from Harry’s mouth, running saliva down over his bottom lip, the red wetting, and beckoning, and dripping. Harry licked his tongue out slowly, cleaning the wet away, drawing Lucius in until he was pressing his fingers to his mouth again.

Feeling the rough texture of Lucius’s fingertips brushing over his lips, pressing forward, dipping ever so slightly into his mouth, Harry wondered blearily if maybe the man was so angry all the time because he really might just want to shag him. That was an amazing, dangerous thought. It was such a crazy, wild idea, Harry slowly opened his eyes, wanting to see if the answer might be there on Lucius’s face.

Opening his eyes broke whatever spell Lucius was under, Harry just catching the man shake his head before pulling his hands away. And then Lucius was standing, growling under his breath and leaving, Harry staring blankly after. “What the fuck?”

He touched his front tooth, whole and at its proper size. “Seriously… What the fuck?” Harry leaned forward, running his hand through his tousled hair and pulling sharply. Then he blinked, head jerking up to look through the window where his three friends were sitting at the pool, very much staring back at him looking just as confused.

“Aw hell.”

SCENE #Murderous best friend

Harry wasn’t sure what Draco was going to do to him, but it was going to hurt and would likely be loud. Draco was definitely a yeller. Not to Vernon’s level, but in its own way spectacular and just as impressive for someone so small. The boy was also a hitter—Also not to Vernon’s level. Harry tried not to compare anyone to Vernon in that regard.

The three of them were standing right outside the door to the house, as if waiting for Harry to come outside but not willing to go in and get him. Harry deliberately kept his hands down, just in case Draco was in a punching mood and saw defense as means to attack. Pushing the door open slowly, Harry stepped out, using it partially as a shield.

“Potter!” Draco shouted, wand in hand.

Harry flinched, keeping his hands down and open, and stepping out onto the patio, the door swinging shut behind. “I didn’t do a thing. I didn’t even know.”

“Bullshit! You—you… He’s my father!” Draco snarled, not really sure what Harry had done, but knowing somehow it had to be the boy’s fault.

“I am well aware,” Harry replied evenly. “That is why I’m just as confused. He’s straight. We all know he’s straight.”

Blaise whistled softly. “Is he? I mean, consider his generation. They were all in the closet back then… Hell, he could be Bi, and it just never came up before our pretty Harry here. I’m straight and things still come up for Harry,” Blaise added with a wicked smile and wink.

Harry rolled his eyes, Blaise’s theory that Harry could turn any straight man gay not helping. Especially with the way Draco was glaring at him. “I did not turn him gay. I’ve barely said two words to him since I got here. And all he’s bothered to say to me was to complain about my clothes, and how I get hurt, oh, and messing up the house, and eating everything—Shit, Draco, he fucking hates me.”

Pansy huffed, arms crossed over her chest. “Geez, I wish he’d hate me like that. I thought he was going to make you deep throat his wand—”

“That is not helping, Pans!” Harry snapped, stepping back when Draco snarled and brandished his wand again. “I was just sitting there—You saw me! I had my eyes closed. I didn’t even know the spell was done until… until…”

“Until you were sucking on his fucking wand,” Draco growled, and Harry knew that this was definitely a hitting mood.

Sighing, Harry held his hands out wide. “Fine, whatever, blame me for everything. I wanted to leave and go move into a motel, but the two of you insisted I stay. I was just minding my own business—”

“Oh, don’t pretend you didn’t love it,” Pansy interrupted with a wide grin. “Your face was bloody red.”

Harry glanced worriedly at Draco, shrugging helplessly. Harry was a terrible liar and they all knew it. “He’s… Damn it, just because he’s hot doesn’t mean I was chasing him, Draco. Stop pointing your wand at me.”

“Or he might suck it,” Blaise snickered, Pansy cackling with him.

Harry hated them both at that moment. “You aren’t helping!”

“There is no helping this, so might as well just sit back and enjoy,” Pansy said simply.

“Alright, the two of you go away. I need to talk to him without your weird shit.” Harry waved his hands at Blaise and Pansy, but Draco stopped them before they could go.

“What the hell is there to say?” Draco threw his arms up in exasperation. “He… Gah, he likes you? This is fucking gay—Damn it, literally. This is messed up. Did you—Shit, is this why mother left?”

Harry held his hands up, eyes wide. “Whoa, don’t blame that on me, Draco. I never came over here before then. You said it yourself—Your mom started hanging with your Aunt and got sucked up in her shit.”

“Yeah, but maybe she was going out more because Father was, well, gay?” Draco didn’t look sure about anything, his face pinched with worry.

“Don’t… You shouldn’t just assume, okay? Relationships are complicated, especially the longer they go. Just talk to your dad and, you know, please leave me out of it.”

Draco shook his head. “There is no way I’m talking to my father about this. He was totally going to… Right, kiss my best friend, and that’s fucked up and I’m not talking to him about any of it.”

“It’s not fucked up,” Pansy disagreed sharply. “He’s not ancient. He’s not dead, and your mom is out of the picture.”

“Pansy…” Harry warned, but the girl would not be silenced.

“I’m tired of it. He’s a damn person, not just your dad. You shouldn’t judge him like that.”

“Listen, I’ve ignored your crush on him for ages, ‘cus seriously, you never stood a damn chance,” Draco growled, Harry sighing and shaking his head with Blaise frowning worriedly. “You don’t know a damn thing about my father, and you never will, so mind your own bloody business.”

Pansy did not start crying like Blaise and Harry had feared. Instead the girl stood taller and laughed. “You really don’t know a thing about people, Draco. Maybe once you reach his age you’ll understand. Being happy is damn difficult sometimes, and why should you fight against the things that make you happy? Even your mother, as messed up and sad as it is, went off and did something she found fulfilling. Do you expect your dad to wait around for her to change her mind, like everything is just going to go back to how it was?”

Harry wasn’t sure if Draco was going to yell or breakdown, neither option desired. “Draco, I’ll leave. Right now. No anger, no bitterness—It’s fine. I don’t want to mess up your situation anymore than it already is.”

Draco pulled his glare away from Pansy for a second to turn to Harry. “Shut up, you’re not going anywhere. Pansy, I’m not waiting for my mom to come back, but god, have a little fucking respect. Shit, at least Harry isn’t following him around the house trying to get him alone.”

Pansy shrugged, not sorry for any of it. “Hey, not like you get a lot of opportunities with Lucius Malfoy.”

This was all just getting way too awkward for Harry. “Listen, I’m going to go throw some of my things together and get lost for a bit. I need to think, and this—” He waved his hand at the the world around him, “Isn’t helping.” Before Draco could turn and try and convince Harry otherwise, Harry slipped into the house and shut the door behind him.

SCENE #Lucius might be crazy

Lucius had tried to calm himself by pacing his room, but to no success. The little brat was haunting him, glowing green eyes stuck in his memory as if he were right there in the room with him. That Lucius desired the boy be there was even worse. Surely Potter would clash with everything he owned.

Not the boy, but his wardrobe. Lucius was starting to make the distinction. Every time he was repulsed by the terror of clashing colors, torn worn fabric, and ill fitted sizes, he was being drawn to what was underneath it all. The glimpses of golden skin, toned, lithe form and those ever tantalizing red lips would go with anything. The attributes had even made the cacophony of mess that Potter called clothing bearable. Lucius was certain that without said clothing, the boy would be well suited for his house, never mind bedroom.

Harry had made the barest of noises, soft, uninhibited gasps of pleasure when Lucius had pressed his fingers to those firm, ripe lips. For all Potter’s skittering looks and mumbled apologies, underneath was a fire raging, just needing the right touch to release it. Lucius knew he could do it—The idea of even attempting was exhilarating.

But Lucius had stopped himself. Harry’s eyes blinking open, just ready to go wide and innocent like they always seemed to do, had reminded Lucius that the boy had no one. No parent, no relative, no caretaker. Lucius had too much power, owning the house and deciding if the boy could dwell within it. It was not the right balance, even for something as delicious and tawdry as a fuck in his study.

A walk was in order. Something to get him out of the house and far away from the wild boy and his many annoying quirks. Perhaps an outing by the lake… Decided, Lucius threw his bedroom door open, stepping into the hall and tripping over the bloody nuisance of a boy he had been hoping to avoid.

“Damn it—Sorry, Mr. Malfoy.” Blinking owlishly at the man who had just knocked him halfway across the hall, Harry got to his feet, muttering as he checked his glasses. They were broken, and he growled softly. Nothing was going right that day. He glanced warily at Lucius, the man looking at him as if Harry had intentionally placed himself in his path instead of having been on his way out the door. Harry would fix the glasses later, when not being glared at.

Harry picked up the duffel bag he had dropped, slinging it back over his shoulder. Glasses clutched carefully in his hand, he continued his walk towards the stairs.

“Glasses, Potter,” Lucius ordered, Harry stiffening and stopping mid step.

He really should just go. The man was probably just looking to insult him. “What about them?” Harry asked, shaking his head at his own stupidity. He just couldn’t let it go, could he?

“I was offering to repair them,” Lucius said, stepping forward with his hand outstretched.

“Oh… Fine, if you want.” Harry shrugged, dropping his bag and turning to hand his glasses over. Lucius’s fingers brushed his and Harry stared down, feeling a jolt from the contact. It really was ridiculous just how mad Lucius made him feel.

To think Draco was downstairs certain Lucius was lusting over Harry, when up here it just seemed like the man could still barely stand to be near him. Harry knew it hadn’t been a dream, very well remembering Lucius and his wand… and fingers… But it seemed very far away, Lucius now ordered and proper, and nothing like what Harry remembered in the study.

“Er… Sir, I’m going to need those back,” Harry called when Lucius suddenly turned, walking through the door he had just exited with Harry’s glasses in hand. Sighing, Harry waited a moment but Lucius didn’t return. Tapping his foot, he decided being rude and intruding was likely better than never getting his glasses back.

Being nearsighted, Harry got more of an impression of Lucius’s bedroom than anything of much detail. The smell was the most impacting, very much full of the expensive cologne the man wore. He could make out dark rich woods mixed with white linens, light blinding in from the open drapes. And Lucius, standing in front of a large mirrored dresser, chanting steadily as he spelled Harry’s glasses back together.

Harry stepped closer than he normally would, wishing to make sure the man was repairing his glasses and not cursing them in some fit of revenge for Harry’s many terrible clothes. Harry would not put it past Lucius. “If you’re done, I really need to get going,” he said impatiently, trying to ignore the funny way his stomach was tripping to be in Lucius’s bedroom. It was the man’s inner sanctum, very much seductive and sensual. A dangerous place to be after the confusing incident of early.

“Oh, and where are you going in such a hurry?” Lucius asked, pulling a soft cloth out from one of his drawers to carefully clean Harry’s glasses.

Harry shrugged, really not wanting to get into it. “Out.”

“With a bag full of clothes.”

“Yeah, so? It’s not like I live here or anything. I figured things were getting too weird, and I should start looking elsewhere.”

Lucius raised a perfectly manicured brow, humming softly. “I thought you liked weird things, Potter. You don’t seem to know much of normal.”

Harry gritted his teeth, not sure exactly what the insult was, but knowing it was another damn insult on top of a really fucked up day. Hadn’t Lucius just been sticking his wand down Harry’s throat? Now the man was going to call him weird? “You know what, Lucius? You are a bloody neurotic, rude, absolute pain in my ass. I have done everything to be pleasant to you from the very beginning—Hell, I wanted to be pleasant. You did a really nice thing for me, letting me stay here. It should have been really easy to like you. But you managed to make it impossible.”

“Potter, you have been wearing the most atrocious clothes since the day I picked you up from your relatives,” Lucius said, as if that explained everything.

“So? Who the hell cares? Why does it matter what I wear? More importantly, why does it matter to you?” Harry was almost shouting and he didn’t care. The man was infuriating and messed up, and shouting was much easier than thinking of the other things he’d very much rather be doing with his mouth in that moment.

“Potter,” Lucius growled, wrapping Harry’s glasses in the soft cloth and placing them on the bureau. “You have been taunting me since the very first moment. Wearing such terrible clothes, holes all over the place, one pair of pants I was certain were see through, they had been worn so much. Do you think I’m naïve?”

Harry had no idea what Lucius was talking about. “Naïve? Lucius, I have told you, those are the only clothes I own.”

“I am aware.” Lucius flicked his wand, Harry’s duffel bag soaring in from the hallway and landing at their feet, the door snapping shut behind it. “May I?”

“What, go through all my things and tell me how terrible they look? Knock yourself out, you bloody psycho,” Harry grumbled angrily. And naturally, Lucius did exactly that. The man pulled nearly every article of clothing Harry owned out of the bag—surprisingly not that many, for all the horror Lucius remembered of the clothing—and verbally described each piece in such scathing detail Harry was actually impressed with the man’s extensive vocabulary.

“Are you done?”

Eyes narrowing as the bag was found to be empty, Lucius turned his piercing glare to Harry. “No. Those jeans you’re wearing. Those enormous, disgusting, hideous, thread worn, low-class, shapeless…” Harry tuned the man out, watching as Lucius gasped for air while continuing his rant on the pants Harry was wearing. “…Potter, give them to me.”

“Huh?” Harry blinked, something changing enough in the long chain of insults for Harry to realize Lucius had said something different.

“Give me your jeans,” Lucius demanded, his hand held out expectantly.

Harry took a step back, grinning crookedly as heat rushed to his face. “Er… No. That would definitely be a no.” Lucius was out of his mind if he thought Harry would be handing over his pants.

Lucius ignored the answer, striding forward and grabbing Harry by the hem of his shirt. “This too. This oversized, ugly thing. Look at the holes in it—This is not the way to dress.”

“Malfoy—I don’t care. It’s mine and I’ll wear what I want!” Harry yelled, struggling against the hands trying to pull his shirt up and over his head. Pausing, Lucius gave Harry an assessing look. Then, with an elegant shrug of his wide shoulders, Lucius grabbed Harry’s shirt by the collar and tore the material in half with one harsh wrench.

“Holy crap… You’re a crazy person… Out of your fucking mind crazy…” Harry mumbled, staring down at the rip in his shirt and the flesh it revealed.

Lucius had been considering this, seeing as he couldn’t stop thinking about the hideously dressed brat. But he was also staring at the long patch of revealed skin, and was already understanding that he had been very right. Slowly and gently he pushed the scraps of fabrics off of Harry’s shoulders, watching in relief and anticipation as more of the boy’s golden skin was revealed. “This is better… Much better…”

Harry blinked up, blushing when he found the man leaning very close and staring at his body. “Mr. Malfoy…”

“Lucius.”

“Er… Lucius… Are you feeling okay?” Harry asked, genuinely concerned for the man’s sanity. Draco’s mom had gone crazy and it looked like his dad was on his way. His breath caught, Lucius close enough that even without his glasses Harry could see his sharp gray eyes as they rose to meet his. And as Harry’s shirt fell away, so did a lot of the anger in Lucius’s expression. Apparently the man really hated his clothes.

“You have been taunting me, Harry,” Lucius murmured, hands lighting down Harry’s sides.

“I-I have?” Harry did not remember taunting the man. He had been as polite as humanly possible while living with the jerk.

Lucius just nodded, mouth descending to Harry’s collarbone and pressing a long, open-mouth kiss. “Every day… covering yourself in horrible…”

“Oh hell… They’re all I have…”

“Atrocious… hideous clothing… not worthy of your beautiful flesh.”

“I am not—Oh god, why are you kneeling?”

“You are extremely beautiful,” Lucius muffled into Harry’s stomach, tongue reaching out to lick a wet path. “Even with those terrible clothes… It is mind-boggling just how beautiful you are… Because these are horrible, horrible clothes…”

Harry just nodded dumbly, holding onto the man’s shoulders to keep from falling. His knees were shaking and heat had completely flooded him, and Lucius was really close to finding out just how much Harry was enjoying the man’s mouth moving over his skin.

“Oh, please don’t,” Harry moaned, Lucius’s hands now on his waistband and seeking out the front to his belt. Draco was going to kill him.

Lucius skillfully unclasped Harry’s belt, slipping the leather from the loops and throwing it to the floor. He took his mouth from the boy’s flat stomach, resting his forehead while staring down at Harry’s fly as he slowly pulled it down.

“Stop—Shit, your son is going to kill me!” Harry tried to push Lucius away, shoving at his shoulders, but the man was like a damn mountain and didn’t budge.

“Draco doesn’t care,” Lucius said simply, glancing up at the very red-faced, absolutely stunning boy. Eyes catching, Lucius moved a hand up, pressing his thumb to Harry’s nipple and then twisted slowly.

“Oh god… oh… oh…” Harry, eyes squeezed shut and mouth gaping, completely forgot what he was saying.

“It’s not like he’s in competition,” Lucius continued, gently pulling the little bud and watching as Harry jerked from each touch. “And really, it wouldn’t be much of a competition, Harry. The things I can do to you… The depths of ecstasy I can bring you to… Hell, just the extra reach I have to twist you into any position…” He smiled into Harry’s stomach, both hands again at the boy’s hips as he began to pull the hideous jeans off.

There were too many thoughts swirling in Harry’s mind from what Lucius had just said, many of them very hot and full of inappropriate ways to test those theories out. But… didn’t Lucius have a wife…? “Mr. Malfoy—L-Lucius, he does care… He’s angry… acting like I’ve been… Oh god, seducing you…”

“Seducing… that does seem like what you’ve been doing…” Lucius snagged his fingers under the waist of the boy’s boxers, pulling the band forward as well, careful to move around Harry’s prominent erection. And then the ugly clothes were at the boy’s ankles and Lucius could finally see all of Harry, smooth skin, hard muscle and red flush. “You are beautiful.”

Harry refused to open his eyes, panting loudly and trying to will himself into some state of invisible camouflage like a lizard. This was insane—He was naked in front of Lucius Malfoy. He was naked, and the man wasn’t insulting every inch of him. No, he had saved that for all of Harry’s clothes. Harry himself was apparently beautiful to the man—Which only made Lucius that more crazy.

Lucius’s hands were at his ankles and Harry mindlessly lifted each foot when urged, the man pulling off his shoes and socks, sneakers clattering on the floor some ways off. Then Lucius shifted, shirt ruffling as he stood and pulled Harry to his hot—Lucius was very fucking hot—body and began rubbing his palms over Harry’s back.

“Open your eyes, Harry. I want to see you.”

Harry whimpered, turning his head and refusing. There was no way in hell he was going to face whatever disdain was on Lucius’s face, no matter how pretty his words were at the moment.

Lucius sighed into his hair, moving his lips down and kissing Harry’s ear, cheek and jaw. He gently caught the boy, fingers wrapped around his chin, and turned his face so Lucius could kiss him, slowly, headily, until Harry couldn’t help but part his lips and let the man’s questing tongue in.

Dear god, he was naked… and kissing Lucius Malfoy… while in his bedroom. Harry shuddered hotly, Lucius making an approving noise right before moving his hands lower and squeezing Harry’s bare ass. “Oh god—Oh!” Harry gaped, Lucius pulling him even closer, his sensitive flesh assaulted by Lucius’s clothing, his hard cock jolting into the man’s thigh. He was naked and hard in Lucius’s bedroom… And Lucius was… woah… He was big.

Harry hesitantly opened his eyes, gaze drifting down to the hot, hard bulge pressing into his lower stomach. He moved his shoulder’s back while Lucius nipped at his jaw, squinted down, wishing he had his damn glasses. But he didn’t, so Harry did the next—or maybe just better—thing, and slipped his hand down between the press of their bodies. His fingers cautiously traced the man’s length through his pants, eyes widening as he realized just what Lucius was working with.

“Do you approve?” Lucius rumbled into Harry’s ear, Harry nodding dumbly, blushing, if possible, even more. Harry could not seem to stop himself, and he pressed his palm firmly into Lucius’s hard dick, gasping when the man growled and nipped his neck in response. Suddenly Lucius was lifting him, large hands on his thighs, pulling him up against his body and bringing them face to face as if he weighed nothing at all.

Harry stared, breathing shallowly, thighs stinging raw against the man’s pants as he gripped Lucius’s hips with his legs. Lucius was looking particularly predatory as he ran his startling pale eyes over his face. It was not five o’clock just yet, but Lucius was already stubbly with bristle, and Harry ran fingers cautiously over the rough flesh. It felt particularly nice, and Harry found himself leaning forward, tongue flicking out to taste the bristle like he had been wanting to since he had first stumbled across Lucius in the kitchen after a particularly bad nightmare.

Lucius hissed lowly from the touch. The sound made Harry dizzy, and he twisted his hand into Lucius’s very silky hair, holding the man tight so that he could run his tongue flat over his jaw in long swipes. Harry soon followed with his teeth, moving to the sharp edge to nip, and then down, rough bristle scraping his smooth cheek as he bit and sucked down Lucius’s throat. He was vaguely aware that they were moving, Lucius’s hands holding him more securely, and then bright light flooded his eyes when Harry’s head fell back against soft sheets, Lucius sitting back to stare and work at the buttons of his shirt.

Harry watched, biting his lip. He stared fuzzily at the dusting of blond hair on the man’s broad chest, pale, smooth muscles and tight hard abs. He swallowed hard, Lucius tossing his shirt aside and moving forward, palms caressing over Harry’s legs, squeezing the muscles of his calves and rubbing his knees. Then he was moving up, dragging rough fingers across Harry’s flesh and digging into his outer thighs, pulling a surprised groan from Harry.

Piercing eyes caught him again, a question in them that Harry could not quite decipher. Harry was lying in Lucius’s bed, naked, the man very much breathing on his knee without even a shirt between them. Harry was having a difficult time thinking in general.

“Holy shit!” Harry yelped in surprise, Lucius suddenly gripping his hips and pulling him down the bed with a smooth motion, forcing his knees up and thighs spread wide. Harry had the amazing privilege of feeling the man’s bristle against his inner thigh, prickling him into small, choked gasps as Lucius ran wet, hot kisses down one thigh and then up the next. Harry let his head fall back, eyes squeezed shut, not sure if he was going to die from embarrassment that Lucius’s mouth was inches from his hard dick, or just die if the man didn’t at least show an interest in sucking him off.

Breathing heavily into Harry’s soft, firm flesh, Lucius gently sunk his teeth into his thigh, feeling the boy jerk and cry out. Harry was exquisite—Definitely made to be nude all the time. Even if Lucius dressed him in the finest clothes, nothing would enhance Harry better than fresh air, light, and Lucius’s hands touching the boy. Lucius moved himself up slowly, pressing a chaste kiss to where Harry’s thigh met his groin. And then ran his tongue out, moving through tight curls of hair to find the boys nestled, straining cock.

“Oh god… Oh my god…” Harry mumbled incoherently, hands flying to Lucius’s head, fingers twisting in the man’s long hair that kept brushing over his thighs and hips. Lucius continued to move his wet lips and tongue over Harry’s length, teasing, taunting, and absolutely maddening. Harry whimpered, thrusting his hips up when Lucius breathed hot air right at the tip of his cock, but the man held him in place, keeping Harry from getting the contact he desperately needed.

“Slowly, Harry… I want to savor someone as beautiful as you,” Lucius purred, tongue swiping a path from his balls all the way to his tip.

Harry just gave an exasperated bark of laughter, fairly certain that he was losing his mind. “Savor me later… Suck me now,” Harry pleaded, groaning when Lucius chuckled and ran another wet trail, deliberately scraping teeth ever so lightly against his sensitive length. Harry threw his head back, body arching as Lucius again breathed scalding heat on his tip and then slipped his tongue out, lapping at his slit. “Hell!”

Stretching, Lucius pulled himself from between the boy’s strong thighs, moving up Harry’s body and finding the flushed face and near frantic eyes of the enchanting brat. Tipping the boy’s chin, Lucius kissed him again, Harry giving a soft moan and relenting. “I’m going to burn all of your clothes,” Lucius murmured between long, deep kisses.

“Mister—Damn it… Lucius… that is not… Oh god… Oh, please…”

“I’m going to burn them… and you are going to have nothing to wear,” Lucius promised, settling his knees on either side of the boy’s long, slender legs.

“You’re… crazy,” Harry gasped, head falling back, only to be followed by Lucius’s persistent mouth and tongue.

Lucius shrugged. He figured after all these years he could afford himself some eccentricities. “If you could see just how stunning you are… How fucking sexy…” Harry gave a little gasp, eyes widening when Lucius swore, the sound very foreign and arousing on the man’s lips. “Clothing just hides you away… and that, Harry, is a crime.”

Lucius was a very convincing man, even if he was clearly out of his mind. Harry stared into the demanding gaze, a thrill tingling down his spine. “What… you uh, expect me to walk around naked?”

“Oh, you’re going to be too tired for walking, I think,” Lucius growled, hands moving up Harry’s sides possessively.

Eyes widening at the implication, Harry gaped silently. The man was… well… hot. Crazy and fucking hot. “So… er… Why would I, um, be so tired?” Harry whispered, gulping at the wicked grin Lucius gave in reply.

Hands moving down to Harry’s hips, Lucius pressed his thumbs into the sharp protrusion of bone and rubbed slowly. “Because when you look as you do, especially without clothes, you have to expect that I am going to fuck you. Repeatedly. Until you can no longer walk.” Lucius tilted his head, eyes teasing. “It’s only to be expected.”

“I see…” Harry’s arms began to shake and he lowered them to the mattress. Repeatedly… He had said repeatedly. “And, uh, do I get any say in this?”

“Oh, I suppose.” Lucius let his hands move down, cupping Harry’s ass and running his fingertips down his crack. “You get to say how hard… Oh, and how long.” Lucius bent forward, nipping Harry’s lips while the boy whimpered. “How much more.”

“More,” Harry echoed, eyes fluttering shut and hips rocking up towards the man above him.

“Yes, just like that,” Lucius agreed, pressing a finger against Harry’s tight hole. “Whatever you want…”

“Oh fuck,” Harry gasped, pressing down, urging the finger inside.

Lucius hissed, nipping Harry’s bottom red lip again, holding it between his teeth and releasing it with a wet pop. “That was the plan.”

Since finding Harry sitting on his trunk, next to the ugly metal car and wearing clothing a troll would have discarded, Lucius had been planning on having the boy. He just hadn’t fully realized it, very much distracted by foolish things like morals, propriety, and hideous clothes. Just as much as the boy was made to be nude, he was also made to be spread beneath Lucius, gasping those sweet, desperate cries in his ear.

Lucius called his wand from his bureau, flipping the surprised boy with a quick roll. He paused, hissing softly, noticing when Harry stiffened and did not relax this time.

The boy’s back was littered with scars, long white lines and shorter bright flecks of pain highlighted even brighter with the way Harry’s skin was quickly turning red. Eyes transfixed on the bizarre crosshatch that had no right to be there on the boy’s beautiful skin, it took Lucius a moment to realize Harry was gasping for air.

Moving off Harry and to the side of the bed, Lucius turned the boy onto his side, raising Harry’s face so he could breathe and Lucius could read whatever the hell was going on in his mind.

Having caught sight of those piercing eyes, Harry shut his own quickly, trying very hard to focus on breathing and not the terror and all encompassing shame that was filling him. Lucius was tracing his jaw, almost gentle, and had yet to say anything horrible or otherwise. Harry wanted to disappear into the mattress, wishing he hadn’t forgotten why he always wore a shirt, the heat Lucius had filled him with completely stealing his sanity.

“I sh-should—”

“Be quiet,” Lucius ordered, his voice low and soft. “I want you to breathe deep, calm down, and be very quiet.”

Swallowing, Harry nodded, keeping his eyes closed and focusing on breathing.

Lucius bent over Harry’s gasping form, fingers resting on the boy’s arm. Carefully, as if they were raw wounds and not old scars, he began to trace the lines on Harry’s back. Most were from a belt, a distinct buckle that’s edge had hit the boy’s back repeatedly. The bright flecks were from the sharp pin that kept the belt in place, having dug into his smooth skin on numerous occasions.

Lucius knew it was none of his business, but that wasn’t knowledge enough to stop him from asking. “When?”

Harry jolted as if struck, taking a moment to answer. “S-Summers… Mostly last…”

Last summer Draco had asked his parents if he could have a friend over for a few weeks before school started. Narcissa had become enraged when realizing the friend had been muggle raised and only halfblood. Harry’s name had never even made it into the graceless conversation.

Brooding silently, Lucius spread his fingers, pressing his palms into the boy’s back and slowly massaging his tight shoulders and muscles. Harry stiffened under his touch but slowly, bit by bit, minute by minute, the boy unwound, relaxing and turning onto his stomach to give Lucius more room to work.

His breathing was slower, nearly normal, and Lucius pressed his face to Harry’s neck so he would hear his quiet replies. “Do you have many panic attacks?”

“Only the last year…” Harry sighed under Lucius’s strong hands, lashes fluttering. “The nightmares, and now… I can’t be without a shirt…”

“You choose not to charm them hidden.”

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. “I know there are spells, just… I’ll always know that they’re there. I don’t know if I want to pretend otherwise.”

Lucius sighed into Harry’s neck, sending a shiver down the boy’s spine. “I would like to show you something.”

Harry sat up hesitantly after Lucius pulled away. It was hard to meet the man’s eyes, but he made an effort. There was no pity in the sharp gaze, no cruelty or taunts. Harry relaxed, idly combing his messy hair into some sort of order. He froze, watching as Lucius picked up his wand and waved it over the front of his broad, bare chest.

“Holy crap…” Harry swallowed, eyes caught on the deep long scars that ran across the man’s ribs. There were two and Harry was fairly certain, although having never seen the end result before, that they were done by a whip. Lucius turned slowly, and there were many more on his back, varying degrees of intensity, some so deep looking it was a wonder that bone wasn’t peeking through. “Who…wh-why?” Harry stuttered, hand inadvertently reaching out to touch the small of Lucius’s back where a particularly deep pit slashed white.

Lucius turned, grasping Harry’s hand and staring down at his fingers. “I was young. Younger than you are now… My father did not approve of my choice of lovers. He caught me… I was able to protect the young man I was with, but I was not so lucky.”

“Your own father did this to you?” Harry shook his head in disbelief. “That’s insane.”

Lucius smirked without warmth. “Yes, well that describes my father well. He never let me out of his sight after that. Took me out of school, arranged for Narcissa to marry me and then, some years later, introduced me to You-Know-Who. My father was very determined that I make something proper of myself.”

Eyes moving over Harry’s face, Lucius bent down to where he was sitting on the bed and kissed the boy softly. Pulling away, he reached across the sheets, wrapping his dress shirt over Harry’s shoulders and covering his back. “Perhaps you should go for now. I’ve put myself in a mood, and don’t wish to upset you further.”

Pulling the soft shirt securely around him, Harry’s eyes kept glancing to Lucius’s scared chest. “Oh… if that’s what you want…” He stood, fingers again brushing lightly over the white puckered marks. Lucius gently trapped his hand, raising it to his mouth and kissing his fingertips. Harry swayed, blushing and feeling very hot. Only to gasp, eyes flying to behind the man where Lucius was pointing his wand.

“You’re bloody mad!” Harry yelped, watching his clothes become consumed by purple flames.

“I told you I was going to burn them,” Lucius said simply, cupping Harry’s face and kissing him again.

Harry moaned, trying to pull away from the hot mouth plundering him. “Yes… and you were mad then, too… Now I have nothing… to wear…”

“Such a shame,” Lucius purred, pulling from Harry’s mouth to kiss his forehead firmly. “Looks like you’re going to have to stay a while longer.”

Harry gaped disbelieving at the man. He continued to gape as Lucius returned from the dresser to hand Harry his glasses and then disappear out the bedroom door.

The… the fucker had burned all his clothes!

SCENE #Burnt remains

“Do you smell something burning?”

Harry was dragging his empty duffel bag behind him, hastily buttoned up in Lucius’s shirt that came down to his thighs, when he heard Draco walking up behind him.

“Yeah, all my fucking clothes,” Harry snapped, whirling to glare at the boy.

Draco stopped sniffing the air to look at his angry friend. “What?”

“Your father! He burned all my clothes,” Harry shouted, throwing his empty bag at the blond’s feet.

“That’s insane. Shit, what the hell is wrong with him?” Draco grumbled, kicking the bag to see it was indeed empty.

“I have like one pair of pants left—Pajamas! And those shirts you picked out that I don’t know what you did with. I’m getting the hell out of here. This is crazy. Your father is fucking crazy, and I’m not putting up with this shit anymore!” Harry started stomping towards the room Draco had let him reside in, muttering loudly.

Draco followed after, grabbing his arm. “Don’t go! I’ll buy you some new clothes. Where the hell are you going to go? I’ll talk to… Hold on. What are you wearing?” Draco suddenly asked, his fingers digging into Harry’s arm. “Is that…? You’re wearing my father’s shirt.”

Eyes widening, Harry coughed awkwardly, his anger fizzling in the face of Draco’s quiet rage. “I, er… that is… I needed something to wear?” Harry looked down innocently at his friend, praying for once in his life he could lie like a proper person. Unfortunately, he could not.

“What are these marks all over your neck? Why—Why are your lips all swollen? Holy fuck! Potter, I’m going to kill you!”

“It’s not what you think—Shit!” Harry ducked, pulling out of Draco’s grasp when the boy took an angry swing at him. “I didn’t—”

“You most certainly did! I know a thoroughly shagged look when I see it! For fuck sake, in my own goddamn home!”

“I didn’t—We didn’t! Almost did,” Harry added, a grin suddenly breaking across his face. “I mean, hell, your dad is really—”

“Potter!” Draco swung again, Harry quickly stepping back and nearly tripping. He caught the next swing thrown his way, Draco growling as he leaned his weight against Harry’s unyielding guard. “My father is not some sort of teenage heartthrob! It’s obscene!”

Harry couldn’t help it, he was grinning like a fool and could not stop. “Heartthrob? That man is an Adonis. When he kisses, it’s like—Oh my god, and his tongue—What the hell am I saying? I can’t tell you this. Where’s Pansy? I can tell Pansy this.” Harry let Draco go, turning to find his friend so he could talk inappropriately about Draco’s father properly.

Draco stared after him, his mouth hanging open. “Get back here!”

Harry snorted, turning and walking backwards. “You really want to hear about what your dad can do with his tongue on particular parts of my anatomy?”

Hissing, Draco grabbed for his wand, only to be reminded that Blaise still had it in his possession. Draco was supposed to be up here making things right with Harry, because clearly his father was losing his shit. Now Draco was pretty sure he was about to kill his best friend.

“Potter, you’re not wearing any pants.”

Blinking, Harry looked down at his state of half undress and stopped walking. His manic grin faded back into his frown of earlier. “Fuck, Draco, he burned all my clothes!”

“Well, you’ll excuse me if I don’t feel sorry for you!” Draco yelled back.

Harry stared at his furious friend, scratching the back of his head while he sighed. “Draco… your dad is messed up.”

Draco took a warning step towards him, hands fisted at his sides. “Seriously? Except for your clothes, I really don’t believe you’re complaining, you randy bastard.”

Harry laughed, holding his hands up. “Come on, that’s not fair! If you liked blokes you would totally understand. Your father is just, hell, fucking something. When a guy like that comes on to you there really is no way to say no. I mean—Look at him. I’m lucky I can be in the same room with him and not fall to my knees every time he says hello. That’s half the reason I’ve been avoiding him… The other half being he’s an absolute prick to me,” Harry added with a growl.

Draco had already heard this particular argument from Pansy and even, for some odd reason, Blaise for all his insistences on being straight. Which reminded Draco again that he had come up here to not fight with Harry, but to apologize for blaming him for enticing his father.

Given time to see things clearly, Draco knew Harry didn’t have a damn seductive bone in his body. The boy was an absolute mess, more terrified that anyone might get a peek at his back or find out about his messed up home life, than to ever chase after anyone sexually. It had actually been something Draco wanted to help Harry work on once they got back to school. The kid totally needed a boyfriend. Just, preferably, not Draco’s father.

“Listen, I’m going to let this slide this one time,” Draco said with a growl, his hands on his hips. “But I don’t want you fucking, well, fucking! He’s my father and you’re my friend. It’s creepy. I’m going to talk to him about it, and this is going to not bloody happen. Okay?”

Harry bit his lip, his eyes skittering away from Draco’s demanding glare. “’Kay.”

“Potter, I’m serious,” Draco snarled, knowing that look. “I don’t want you going near him again.”

Harry growled back, his face turning red. “What, like I want anything to do with the asshole that just burned my entire wardrobe? You know how difficult it is for me to get new clothes. I’m going to kill him the next time I see him!”

Draco didn’t fully believe Harry, but was not a hundred percent certain why. Maybe because he had completely missed the boy’s attraction to his father the whole time Harry had been there. Even though Harry couldn’t lie to others for shit, he could lie to himself, and Draco suspected that was what was happening now. “We’re getting you more emergency healing charms so there will be no excuse for you two to be that bloody close. And I’m never leaving you alone with him again.”

Harry shrugged, ruffling up the back of his hair. “Shit, like I care. Although, you act like being in the same room is all it takes to start jumping each other.”

Draco rolled his eyes before pinning his friend with a glare. “What exactly happened when you came up here?”

Blushing even more, Harry glared back. “Shut up.”

“Yeah, so I’m going to be a goddamn chaperone for the two of you. Now lets find you some pants already.”

Harry cautiously walked back over to Draco, the two of them sizing each other up warily. “Sorry I think your dad is hot,” Harry muttered.

“Me fucking too,” Draco said flatly. “None of my clothes are going to fit you. You’re too tall.”

“I know…” Harry sighed, pulling at the open cuffs of Lucius’s shirt. “I could always wear—”

“No, you cannot. And you’re giving the bloody shirt back to him the second he gets back.” Draco grabbed Harry by the shoulder and pulled him into his room to find something the boy could wear.

SCENE #Lucius’s desire

“What foul hell is this?” Lucius grunted, stepping into his dinning room to find his son and Harry eating dinner, Blaise and Pansy gone for the evening. Draco and Harry exchanged confused glances, Harry eventually looking down at his mismatch of clothing when the man continued to glare at him.

“Come on—You have no right to complain,” Harry grumbled, shoveling broccoli into his mouth and pointedly not meeting Lucius’s gaze.

“Father, I want to talk to you about—”

“Not now, Draco. Potter, I’ve arranged for someone to be down here at eight o’clock sharp tomorrow morning. You will be awake, pleasant and accommodating. He is a personal friend, and I will not tolerate rudeness towards him.”

Harry furrowed his brow, forced to look at the man just to figure out what the hell he was talking about. “What?”

“Eight o’clock. He will be understanding of your… condition.” Lucius paused a moment, eyes lingering on Harry’s face too long, only to fall to the pair of hideous pajama pants. Garish banana yellow with blue and red cartoons billowed around Harry’s legs in cosmic mockery of decency itself. Scowling, Lucius whirled and left the room, hands tight in fists.

“Father!” Draco stood up, giving Harry an apologetic look before running after Lucius.

Lucius had made it to his study before Draco caught up. Glancing agitatedly as his son stalked into the room, Lucius reached for the scotch, pouring himself two fingers and sitting in his chair. Harry had been in that chair only hours ago, the memory still hot in Lucius’s mind, along with the one from the bedroom, and the damn scars on the boy’s back.

“So, what is this? Some sort of revenge for telling you I didn’t want to join the Ministry when I got out of school?” Draco asked, shutting the door behind him.

“Pardon?” Pulling his mind to the here and now, Lucius fixed his son with a skeptical look. “Revenge… Have I harmed you in some way?”

“As much as my father snogging my best friend can harm a person,” Draco snapped. “What the hell is going on with you? I preferred when you were just being an ass to him. This is a bit much, Father!”

Lucius raised his brow, surprised. Draco was genuinely upset. “So you do not find snogging preferable to hexing. I’m somewhat confused about that.”

“Father!” Draco stopped himself, taking a deep breath. He went to Lucius’s desk, resting his palms lightly on the dark wood buffed to sheen brightly. “What do you want with him? How can some teenage boy be of interest to you? And why a boy? Pansy has been chasing after you since she first met you. Why him and why the hell now?”

Giving his son an accessing look, Lucius placed his glass down on his blotter. “If I tell you, will you stop taking things so personally?”

Draco sighed, blowing a loose hair from his face. “I don’t know… I guess it depends on the answer.”

It was a fair enough response, Lucius feeling compelled to be open. “Your mother and I have been sleeping with men for a long time. Nearly as long as we have been married.”

Draco flinched, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Oh.”

“Arranged marriages, the good ones, allow for certain accommodations that we chose to indulge. It made life reasonably pleasant,” Lucius continued, watching his son’s face carefully. “With your mother being so erratic and filing for separation, I abstained from any pleasantries, concerned she would… retaliate in unreasonable levels. Bellatrix gleefully informed me at the beginning of summer that your mother has been ‘courting,’ as a polite way to put it, and I no longer felt the need to hold back.”

Staring down at his hands, Draco spread his fingers, making patterns idly as he thought. “So… you’ve been dating this summer?”

Lucius snorted softly. “If that is what you would like to call it, far be it for me to disillusion you. I will not be bringing anyone home, if that is your concern.”

It had been and Draco released a sigh of relief. “And Harry? What is he… just some pretty thing you saw lying around the house you decided to play with?”

Lucius didn’t answer, instead swallowing down the contents of his glass in a long gulp. “Tell me about the scars on his back. The name of the culprit.”

Draco stared at his father disbelieving and slowly shook his head. “No way. Not until I know what the hell you want from him.”

“I don’t want anything from him,” Lucius said evenly.

Draco raised his hands so he could then slam them on the desk. “Bullshit! You burned all his clothes!”

“So? They were repulsive and battered. I intend to replace them with something less offensive to my senses. There is no reason the boy should dress like that, now that he is free from those careless muggles…” He trailed off, eyes sharpening on his son. “It was the muggles, wasn’t it? His guardians?”

“Stop changing the subject!” Draco snarled. “Father, you are the most reserved, cunning, underhanded man I know, potentially matched only by my Head of House who lived his life as a double agent. You do not go into fits of rage and start burning things.”

Lucius smiled slowly, folding his hands on his desk and leaning forward. “Draco, you just found out today that I enjoy the company of men, and have had an open relationship with your mother of many years. You cannot honestly know if I’m not out setting things on fire all the time.”

Draco blinked, paling at his father’s queer expression. “Father… Now I’m even more worried for him. Is… is that what you want? Me freaking out that you’re losing your mind and going to hurt my friend?”

“I am not losing my mind.”

“You sure? Because Mother did, and you’re sure acting like a crazy person.”

Lucius sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his melodramatic son. “Draco, I am a wizard. A powerful one. I am also a powerful man, wealthy and influential. If I want something, I get it through whatever means suit me at the time. I did not like his clothing. He no longer has said clothing—Although I will destroy those pants and I have yet to find that hideous orange thing. My actions are hardly out of proportion to my abilities. Now can we let this drop?”

Draco straightened, staring down at his father silently. Lucius, unlike Harry, was a very good liar, and had never had any qualms about lying to Draco. But Draco had to ask because Harry was not only his friend, but his guest, and he was responsible for the boy’s safety. “Father, what do you want from him?”

“Nothing.”

“Sex?” Draco pressed, daring his father to deny it.

Lucius took a moment to respond. “I desire that. But I do not want it.”

Understanding slowly dawning, Draco nodded. “So the things you want, you have no problem going after. But the things you desire…?”

“Are frivolous, and do not merit my effort.” He said it so smoothly, Draco almost wondered if his father was choosing to lie, but it seemed too much like Lucius’s philosophies in life that he couldn’t be certain.

“To be clear. You do not want Harry, but you do…” Draco raised his brows expectantly.

Lucius graced his son with a thin smile. “I desire him.”

It was an odd thing to even consider, Draco having seen his father only one way for, well, his entire life. Recently, Lucius had to be seen different, no longer with Mother there to do the majority of the household upkeep. His father had even gone so far as to start working shorter hours during the summer months, just to make sure Draco wasn’t home alone. Lucius had even indulged the allowance of Harry to stay, and his friends to come over whenever Draco called. Draco hoped that he could allow his father this new definition without too much struggle. Maybe if it hadn’t been his friend it would have been easier. Surely, if it hadn’t been a boy his own age…

Draco raised his eyes to his father’s, not quite sure he wanted to ask the next question. “This isn’t some weird transference thing for me…?”

Eyebrows seeking his hairline, Lucius held his hand up. “Draco, son, I mean this with all the kindness in the world as your father, protector and provider. You are not my type, and let’s leave it at that.”

Draco nodded hastily, his stomach unclenching from the knot it had found itself in. “Very good,” he said stiffly. “So I’m going to let you be, and finish my dinner, and pretend we did not talk about any of this.”

“That sounds like a wonderful plan,” Lucius drawled, mirth reflected in his eyes. “And that name I was inquiring about?”

Draco turned from where he was leaving, a scowl growing. “His uncle. Some fat, blustery, red-faced prick that kept going on and on about his job. I met him once last year while trying to convince Harry to run away. Still don’t know why Harry didn’t just put the creep in his place.” Shaking his head, Draco left, the door clicking behind him.

Getting up to pour himself another glass of amber Macallan, Lucius considered his options. He would prefer no information to get back to the green-eyed demon in the other room. Troublesome as the boy was, he seemed a bit delicate. Or maybe that was Lucius, transferring a little of his fatherly protectiveness… Death of Potter’s relatives would certainly warrant investigation. But there were so many diverting things one could do that did not lead to death—Not right away, anyways.

Lucius ruminated, images of twisted, repentant muggles slowly evolving to scarred, flushed skin, and swollen, red lips. Lucius had not been lying to his son; he very much desired Harry. But he may have skimmed over the facts of what that meant.

Lucius did not bother to put effort into obtaining the things he desired. He had spent a lifetime desiring many things he had been told he could and could not have. In the end, all of them had been his. Wanting was just the will. Desiring… It was a power that could not be contained or denied. His son would understand eventually, likely long after Lucius had ravished the scarred beauty beyond salvation.

The scars had been a terrible revelation, and the source of Lucius’s current mood. He had not felt this particular dark mood in a long time, but it was as familiar as seeing those pale thin slashes on one as young and as beautiful as Harry. Lucius had never been as innocent as the boy feigned, but he had admitted to some naivety to the consequences of his actions at his father’s hands. He wondered what Harry had done to warrant the many marks on his back… They were likely chronically inflicted. Not like the three distinct fits of rage that had possessed Lucius’s father in face of his disobedience, until Lucius had realized there truly was no hiding things from the man.

Then again, Lucius had killed the elder Malfoy and his father hadn’t seen that coming. Hardly all knowing and all powerful, no matter how he had tried to convince Lucius otherwise.

His father had been successful in one front. Lucius was the epitome of perfection at everything he did, be it torturing the weak, to hunting down and slashing dead the powerful. That he still felt… Well, Lucius wasn’t sure if that was his weakness or strength. It depended on the situation, and currently feeling was not desired.

SCENE #Tipsy toothpaste

“You’re pissed.”

“Hardly.”

“You’re wasted—Totally shitfaced.”

“Tipsy, tops.”

“Yeah, well you just tipsy’d yourself into the bathroom, and I would like to brush my teeth in peace, you drunk-ass, fire happy jerk.” Harry fixed Lucius with a glare through the bathroom mirror. He had his toothbrush halfway sticking out of his mouth, white foam just peeking across his lips in a way that Lucius could not seem to stop staring at.

“You know we have spells for that, correct?”

Harry huffed and returned to what he was doing, determined to ignore the plastered man. There were like fifteen bathrooms on the damn floor. Why couldn’t Lucius go annoy one of those?

Lucius stepped further into the sleekly tiled room, eyes caught on Harry’s pants. “You’re wearing those hideous pajama pants again. I thought I made myself clear that you were not to wear anymore ugly, unnatural color combinations while in my presence?”

“I wasn’t in your presence, you neurotic psycho. I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth.” Harry spat into the sink, filled his cupped hands with water and rinsed his mouth. He nearly choked on the way back up, glasses going askew and head just missing the mirror when Lucius ran his hand over his ass.

“You have a hole,” Lucius grumbled with a soft slur, finger poking into an apparent rip around Harry’s right ass cheek. “I swear you put them there yourself, just so I have to stare.”

“That’s crazy talk—Oh!” Harry closed his eyes, Lucius’s hands slipping to his hips, the man pressing the front of his body to Harry’s back and rubbing against him. Lucius was half hard, his large length slowly coming to life as he ground against Harry’s firm ass. Harry let out a shaky breath, his mouth refusing to close all the way.

“You do, don’t you?” Lucius murmured roughly, teeth biting at Harry’s ear while he breathed the boy’s scent in.

“W-what?” Harry croaked, eyes glancing to the mirror where he could see Lucius hovering. The man’s sharp eyes were hazy, and he smelled of cologne and the smooth scent of rich liquor.

“Put holes in your clothes… How anyone could have so many by accident is just impossible.” Hand moving to the side of Harry’s thigh, Lucius pressed his finger through another small hole, jolting Harry with the feeling of skin touching skin. “It’s either that, or you’re infested with moths. Have you trained moths to put holes in your clothes?”

“You are so totally sloshed right now,” Harry groaned lowly. Lucius pushed him forward with a hard thrust and held him there, Harry’s waist biting into the sink while he grabbed for purchase.

“Buzzed, if anything,” Lucius corrected, fingers moving over Harry’s thighs as he sought out more hidden holes. “Only two? That can’t be right…” He continued his search, fingers biting at Harry’s flesh beneath the thin material of his pajama bottoms. “Ah, ha… I knew it…” He hissed triumphantly.

“Oh fuck…” There had been a good reason Harry had not taken these particular pajama pants with him when packing his bags. They had torn at the inner thigh along the seam, very much not okay to wear around a busy-bodied, pain in the ass, obsessive compulsive, groping Malfoy. He could feel Lucius’s fingers slipping through the fabric, not even pretending to be coy as he went straight for Harry’s rising cock.

“Let’s go to my bedroom,” Lucius growled heatedly, teeth nipping at his neck while he tugged rhythmically on Harry’s dick. “We can finish what we started earlier.”

Harry moaned, falling back against the hard body behind him. That sounded like a really good idea…. But he was already in a lot of trouble over the whole ‘wanting to shag your father’ thing. “Er… Draco said I’m… not allowed in your bedroom anymore,” Harry whispered, fighting the urge to grind back into Lucius’s erection.

Lucius ran his tongue slowly up Harry’s neck. “My son does not dictate whom my bedroom is open to.”

Harry nodded quickly, his eyes squeezed shut. “R-right.. but, oh hell… He’s my friend.”

Lucius sighed, removing his hand from the boy’s length and the tear in his pants. Harry made a small whimper of disappointment, so soft Lucius almost wondered if he had imagined it. “Take your shirt off.”

Harry choked back an incredulous laugh, then gasped as Lucius thrust against his ass again. “Th-that’s only going to get me in trouble.”

“You are already in so much trouble, young man, you don’t even know it,” Lucius purred, wrenching at the boy’s hips. “Do you think I need a bed to fuck you? Do you think I need permission from my son? Harry, I could have you right here… hideous pants around your ankles… your tight, delicious ass clenching around my cock.”

“Oh. My. God.” Harry was pretty sure he was going to black out. His blood was no longer reaching his head, and his vision was totally dark at the edges, body very much taut and tense as Lucius continued to rub his large cock against his ass.

“Do you want that? Do you want to spread your legs wide and have me fuck you?” Lucius asked lowly, fingers pinching at Harry’s waistband, pulling at the elastic material and sending gusts of cool air across Harry’s erection. “You’ll drip with my cum, Harry. That tight, pink hole of yours will trickle white with my seed… down your thighs… the back of your legs… all over your balls.”

Harry really had no proper answer. He opened his mouth, certain he should tell the man he was absolutely crazy, and more than a little tipsy, but all that came out was a long, needy moan.

“You do… You want me to fuck you.” Lucius sunk his teeth into the junction of shoulder and neck, Harry jerking fitfully and moaning louder. “I should have known the instant I saw you in those damnable jeans…”

“Leave… my clothes… out of this,” Harry panted dizzily. He slit his eyes open, finding Lucius staring at him intently through the mirror. The man’s gaze blazing, he raised fingers to Harry’s mouth, touching his red lips until Harry parted them.

Harry watched, vision caught as Lucius began to explore his mouth with his long fingers. Surely it was some other boy, some green-eyed creature living in the mirror that was just pure wanton and wild, wrapping his tongue so boldly around Lucius’s two fingers, pulling them down, sucking them deep. The heavy lidded boy in the mirror looked confident, mouth wide, white teeth flashing as he nipped firmly. He had no shame, tightening his red lips to the thick fingers, creating suction as Lucius thrust rhythmically in and out of his mouth. It must have been some other boy, even though Harry could feel them in his mouth, warm flesh, rough pads of Lucius’s fingertips that tasted of booze, and salt, and a hint of floral soap.

Harry could see now what it looked like when Lucius trailed wet saliva over his red lips, crystal liquid coating and dripping, pulling down further, over his chin, down his throat to the collar of his new black tee. “Come on, Harry… Let’s see what it looks like when your nipples are wet.”

Lucius pulled at the material of his shirt and Harry didn’t stop him. Instead he watched, transfixed as the man pulled the fabric up, bunching it and pulling it tight under Harry’s armpits, twisting the fabric to expose the boy’s chest and stomach to the mirror. “I want to watch you come. I have been dreaming of seeing those pouting lips of yours parted wide when you jet your seed all over your stomach.” Lucius moved slower against Harry’s back, rubbing in a way that Harry was pretty sure meant the man was so goddamn hard he was going to burst if he kept up at the pace. But Harry was just standing there with some liquid on his face—It wasn’t like they were doing anything crazy wild.

Then again, Harry was pretty sure he was going to come too, especially if Lucius kept panting in his ear like that, just with a low, rough undertone of breaking control that was making Harry so hot every time the man did it. Was that the alcohol, or was that just Lucius when he looked at Harry? Did the man want him that much that he would tremor and growl?

Lucius placed his fingers back to Harry’s mouth, and the boy in the mirror was quick to respond, licking hungrily, biting and sucking, and moaning around them.

“Delectable,” Lucius growled, pulling his fingers free and moving them down to Harry’s chest. Face bent over his shoulder, Harry watched Lucius watch his nipple harden and flush under his slick, tight grasp. Harry closed his eyes, gasps turning into groans, his nipple growing sore and aching under the twisting grip. Lucius’s other hand moved down, cupping Harry’s erection through his pants as the man rocked against him.

“Open your eyes… You should see how beautiful you are.”

Harry snorted in disbelief, but slowly slit his eyes open because Lucius had paused what he was doing. The man was staring at him through the mirror, like Harry was some treasured dessert he just couldn’t help but devour.

Harry trembled, wishing he could stop. Wishing he wanted to stop. Nothing good was going to come of this. Lucius was just looking for some fun. Harry didn’t know what the hell he wanted, rarely the type to seek out fun, just avoid pain. All he did know was that the man was fucking sexy, and wasn’t treating his scars like he was a hideous freak—And really, really seemed interested in getting Harry’s pants off.

“Give them up, Potter,” Lucius demanded with more lust than anger. “I want to see that tight, little ass of yours.”

Harry shook his head, grabbing Lucius’s persistent hands wrapped around his waistband. “You’re going to burn them, and then I’ll literally have no pants to wear. You know you burned all my underwear, right?”

Lucius smiled wickedly, tongue licking up the side of Harry’s face and lingering on the stem of his glasses. “Oh, I know.”

Harry glared half-heartedly, his stomach flipping at the answer. “You’re a fucking ass.”

“Maybe… But me fucking your ass just seems so much better.” Since Harry had his wrists, Lucius spread his fingers, digging in to the boy’s hips. He pushed his erection harder against Harry, burrowing between his cheeks. Harry gave a weak moan and relaxed his grip unconsciously. Grinning in triumph, Lucius nipped down the boy’s neck while finally pushing the hideous pants down to Harry’s thighs. “That’s it… Very tight, Harry… Let’s get a better look.”

Harry gasped, Lucius suddenly lifting him back from the sink, his slender torso stretching before him in the mirror. The shirt was still bunched up by his arms and pulled back, flashes of yellow fabric by his thighs. In between, Harry was exposed, warm flesh and very, very hard, his erection bobbing and flushed red. He tried to close his eyes, look away, but Lucius snared his chin and held his face forward. “The eyes are definitely the icing. You can’t shut them,” he murmured into Harry’s ear.

Harry nodded dumbly, swallowing hard and opening his lids slowly. “Oh god,” he gasped, watching as Lucius’s hands began to move over him. It felt amazing, that had never been in question, but it also looked amazing too. The boy in the mirror kept arching into Lucius’s palms, lips parted, head thrown back. “Lucius—hell!” Harry cried out, one of those large hands fisting around his cock, thumb moving up to spread the precum beading from Harry’s tip.

“Yes… yes, much better than I had even imagined,” Lucius growled lowly, his other hand slipping behind Harry so he could undo his fly and push his underwear down. He pressed his heated erection between the boy’s bare, taut thighs, nudging Harry’s balls.

“Oh my god… y-you’re…” Harry couldn’t say it, feeling the hard flesh on his flesh and shuddering in absolute, agonizing want.

Lucius smirked down at the sight of Harry’s dick twitching in his palm. He thrust in slow, languid pushes against the boy, each movement making Harry moan again. “Just want to feel you… Feel you cum… Cover you in mine.”

“Please… Oh please.” Harry tried to keep his eyes open, but his face kept insisting on twisting in lusty ways that was making it very difficult to do much of anything proper. Lucius’s breathing was ragged in his ear, not as loud as Harry’s own desperate pants for air. And his hand—Oh, so hot, fingers tight and slick with sweat and something Harry thought was lube, although he hadn’t noticed Lucius use any. He cried out, Lucius’s thumb again sliding over the head of his straining dick, the short, manicured nail pressing a little too hard against his slit, jolting him with a mix of pleasure and pain. Harry managed to look again, the boy in the mirror completely undone, hands reaching up and back to grasp at Lucius’s wide shoulders and tear at his shirt.

“You’re shaking,” Lucius said teasingly, his free hand gripping Harry’s hip to hold the boy steady. “Are you close?”

“Y-Yes… God yes,” Harry choked out, eyes again squeezed shut.

Lucius purred approvingly, his hips jolting hard against Harry in response. “I’m going to cum on you. You’re going to wish it was inside you, filling you so deep. But you… decided… to wear these damnable pants.”

Harry moaned in agony. He wasn’t going around nude just because… Oh hell… maybe being nude would be okay.

“Potter?” Lucius suddenly stilled, body leaning over Harry to reach for something.

Harry whimpered, pressing back into the man. But Lucius ignored him, growling under his breath and pushing Harry forward.

“Are you—Potter, you’ve been using my toothpaste!”

SCENE #Hygeine issues

“I can’t believe you, you neurotic, psychotic, mother fucking tease!” Harry snarled even while Lucius held his rolled up tube of toothpaste and shoved it under Harry’s nose like it was the crime of the century. Harry pulled his shirt down fitfully, reaching then for his pants and carefully pulling them up around his aching hard on. Being exposed in front of a pissed off Lucius did not do anything for Harry. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong, you rude, ill-mannered, uncoordinated little hell-spawn, is that guests do not go into a person’s house and use their things without permission!” Lucius said lowly and with barely controlled anger.

“You don’t even use toothpaste! That tube is in the same place I leave it every freaking time! No one else has used it the entire month I have been here—Nor any of the toothpaste in the other bathrooms!”

Lucius narrowed his eyes, nostrils flaring. “You’ve used all of them? You systematically went through every bathroom in this house and used my favorite brand of toothpaste? You inconsiderate—Do you even understand how germs spread?”

Harry spluttered, fairly certain he was going to do something extremely painful to Lucius if the idiot didn’t stop saying such stupid shit. Instead, Harry grabbed the man by the sides of the face, roughly licked him from chin to forehead, and then shoved him away. “How’s that for germs, you goddamn psycho?”

Lucius, apparently, did not like that. Sneering like a wet cat, he grabbed Harry by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in tight. He then stepped forward, forcing Harry back until he was trapped between Lucius and the sink. Harry probably should have been frightened, but it was Lucius and for some reason he just couldn’t imagine the man hurting him. As if to prove the bizarre thought running through Harry’s mind in that moment with the blond towering over him, Lucius growled and returned the offensive gesture. He used so much force, Harry’s glasses went clattering to the ground when the man’s tongue reached them. Harry fought the urge to laugh, still upset with the ass.

“You damn obnoxious, tormenting demon,” Lucius rasped hoarsely, grinding his cock into Harry’s hip.

“Don’t you dare start, you bastard,” Harry panted, head falling back to rest against the mirror while he clung to the sink behind him. “There’s no way I’m letting you—Oh… Oh hell.” Lucius licked up his neck next, his hands tearing under Harry’s shirt. He quickly pulled the boy’s pants back down and off, wrenching Harry’s narrow hips and crashing the two of them together.

“You are going to pay, Potter. On your knees. Bent over every surface I can think of.”

“Oh hell… Shut up, you son of a bitch,” Harry groaned, his hands coming forward to clutch at Lucius’s shirt. “You are so… fucked in the head.”

“I am going to fuck you in the head,” Lucius hissed against Harry’s neck, hands clenching his ass tightly and lifting the boy up on tiptoes so that Harry was moving with every aching thrust as their cocks rubbed together.

Harry snorted. “Who says that… Oh god… oh… Okay.” Hands falling down, Harry gripped at Lucius’s hips. Fingers trembling only a little, Harry reached between them, touching Lucius’s silken length and pressing his palm to the hot, hard flesh so that it would rub against his own even more. He had never felt another’s dick, certainly not a grown man’s and in a state where it was ready to come. He’d always assumed he’d like it, seeing as he liked guys in general. Harry didn’t expect just how much he would want to suck that hard flesh, now that Lucius had put the idea in his head.

Harry did not get an opportunity, Lucius growling fiercely and lifting him up so that Harry was sitting on the sink, cold porcelain against his heated flesh making him gasp. Then Lucius was pressing the head of his cock between Harry’s spread thighs. He groaned softly in the boy’s ear as he wrapped his hand around Harry’s exploring fingers. Then he jerked them together over his large length with long, firm strokes. Harry stared down, transfixed, knowing what was going to happen and full of anticipation to see.

“Yes,” Lucius hissed through gritted teeth, hips jolting with his release, covering Harry with wet streams of cum. Each touch of hot fluid felt like electricity to Harry, moans falling uncontrollably from his lips while he watched his red length, tight sack and trembling thighs become coated with Lucius’s seed. “Come on, Potter… you’re there.”

Lucius grabbed Harry’s face, holding him still and forcing him to meet his blazing silver gaze. And then the man’s hand was wrapping around Harry’s cum covered cock, every muscle in the boy’s body tight and shaking with raw need. Lucius was staring, fixated on Harry’s mouth. Vaguely Harry remembered what Lucius had said about wanting to see his mouth when he came. That Lucius had meant it was just too much on top of everything else. Harry gaped nearly silent, a small, choked cry slipping free from his red lips when his orgasm hit, feeling the intense fire tear through him and then out.

Harry blearily felt his cum scald his stomach, Lucius even then guiding to ensure he got everything he wanted from the boy’s body. Shudder after shudder rocketed Harry, his eyes closing as he realized he had just cum, with Lucius Malfoy, in the bathroom. He had never done… Had never even thought to do something like that…

Holy fuck. Lucius had covered him with cum and then… and then…

“Oh… wow,” Harry whimpered, his body collapsing from the magnitude of it all. Lucius held him steady, pulling Harry’s face closer so he could kiss him. It was a hard kiss, sloppy and scented with sex, alcohol, and toothpaste that the man never ever used, but Harry did, every day and night. Lucius kissed him deep, tongue stealing each of Harry’s gasps. The man didn’t seem tired the way Harry felt, but wilder, more desperate to touch him, as if something had been unleashed with their mutual completion.

The mirror gave a sudden creak behind Harry and then fell, shattering on the tiled floor around them. Lucius growled lowly into Harry’s mouth.

Harry groaned, turning his head slightly so he could drag air in from around Lucius’s lips, saliva running from the corners of his mouth. “Potter, stop destroying my house,” Lucius panted against his cheek, fingers tangling into his dark hair so he could pull Harry in for another needy kiss.

Moaning, Harry opened his mouth wider, tongue tasting tongue and delving deep, before finally freeing his lips. Exhausted, sated, and very much confused as to just how safe he felt with Lucius resting against him, holding him tight in the goddamn bathroom of all places, Harry glared at the infuriating ass that kept assuming everything he did was fully intended to piss Lucius Malfoy off. “Make me.”

SCENE #Tailored fit

Mr. Adler was an older gentleman, just starting to stoop with age. His immaculately groomed form was topped with a salting of gray through dark hair. He merely tutted once when seeing Harry’s scars for the first time, and they didn’t speak a word of them afterwards. Although they were indicated vaguely when discussing what style of shirts Harry would like to wear. Mr. Adler was a tailor, Lucius’s preferred choice for casual wear when the older wizard bothered to be casual.

“I know, but I would really just like some jeans, underwear and a few shirt,” Harry grumbled after Adler listed off another supposed fifty things required of a ‘proper’ wardrobe. Harry was not a proper person, and didn’t care about owning a million things. “Do you guys have t-shirts? Like with pictures on them and stuff? I don’t want to be wearing collars for the rest of the school year.” And probably eternity, seeing as Harry could not bring himself to walk into a clothing store and buy things for himself. Shit, when had things gotten so out of hand?

“Mr. Potter, I understand some eccentricities are to be expected with someone of your fame and standing—”

“What!” Harry squawked, his face going bright red. “I’m not being crazy here.”

“You need a proper wardrobe, not just muggle styled rebellion,” Mr. Adler continued smoothly, his dark eyes steely but not unkind. “You’re coming into your graduating year, and it is important to look the part when seeking employment.”

Harry shrugged, not really concerned about any of that. Maybe he should be. Maybe there was something wrong with him for not caring about what every other person was supposedly caring about. But he couldn’t force himself to. He could only compromise.

“How about you put whatever you want in there—as long as it’s not white—and just add a good dozen jeans and twice as many t-shirts, so I don’t feel like a complete prat?” Harry asked, his tone of annoyance kept back to a minimum. Stripping had been difficult, even with Adler a professional and uncaring of his scars. Harry was grouchy, not having slept well and agitated by the idea of Lucius buying him clothing. The bastard should after burning all of his. But Harry was not happy about anything at the moment.

“I think that is a reasonable solution.” Mr. Adler began jotting down in his notebook. “The layered look is very popular these days with young people. I think it would suit you fine.”

“Whatever,” Harry muttered, sitting with a sigh while the man continued to write away. Draco wouldn’t be up for at least another hour, the boy a complete wreck in the mornings until around ten and full of caffeine. Harry really wondered how his friend thought he was doing any chaperoning at all, considering Harry usually ran across Lucius during the early hours of the day before the man went to work. Draco sure as hell had been useless last night.

Last night had been… Harry suppressed a shudder, his body tingling all over just thinking about it. He had never thought he would want something like that. Harry had known he had liked guys for a long time, but he had never really thought he would want them. Harry hardly considered himself sexual. His body seemed to not be connected to the rest of him, even less so since last summer. Since Vernon. But Lucius, a taller, stronger, and by all accounts, more powerful man, could slam Harry up against a sink and Harry wasn’t afraid. Not even for a moment. With his shirt off and scars exposed. Even when Lucius had smelled of alcohol. No, Harry had been so turned on, he had wondered if he was going to faint.

That boy in the mirror—Hell, he had been a sexual creature. When Harry got lost in Lucius, he was that boy. Unafraid. Wanton. Beautiful. There was something about the man that made Harry feel safe. And when Harry was safe, he was something so much more than what he had ever been before. Harry wanted to be that boy more. Maybe always.

Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands. Nothing good could come of any of this. Lucius was married—To a crazy woman, at that. He had a son—Harry’s freaking best friend. And the man was an arrogant jerk that thought buying him a wardrobe made it okay to completely ruin everything he owned. Yes, it had all been ugly and full of holes, but it had belonged to Harry as much as anything ever had. When you owned so little, not even a room to truly call your own, the things that were yours suddenly became extra important.

“Alright, Mr. Potter. You should expect the first of your clothing within three days, the rest by the end of two weeks.” Mr. Adler summoned up a duplicate of his list of articles, handing the sheet of parchment to Harry. “I will speak with your benefactor on the settling of the bill. If you have any questions, my shop’s floo coordinates are listed, along with my assistants’ names.”

Harry’s mind reeled, staring dumbly at the page while Mr. Adler bid farewell. Benefactor? Why would the man have phrased it like that? Was Harry some sort of charity case that Lucius was taking pity on because of his homelessness and scars? Or was it more insidious than that?

Did Adler think Lucius was buying clothes for Harry in some fucked up trade for sex?

Did Lucius think that?

Harry got unsteadily to his feet, the paper crumpling loudly as he crushed it without thinking. Harry was not a prostitute. He did not need Lucius Malfoy to buy him clothes like some whoring boy toy that chased older men to be taken care of. Harry didn’t need anything from anyone, especially not from an arrogant ass like Lucius.

So what if the man was hot? So what if Harry got weak in the knees and goddamn hard every time the bastard walked in the room? That didn’t give Lucius the right to anything. Not to being rude, not to burning his clothes, and not to touching him. And so what if that had felt goddamn amazing beyond belief? Fuck Lucius Malfoy, the neurotic piece of shit.

This was just another way for the man to piss him off, and control him at the same time. Dressing him like some child’s doll—Ridiculous! Growling, Harry took off for the bedrooms, stomping up the stairs, striding down the hall, and throwing Draco’s door open.

“Draco, wake up!” Harry growled, moving through the door and pulling the curtains open wide. Draco gave a grumble from the bed, face quickly hidden beneath covers.

“Go away… Sleeping,” Draco said with a yawn, only to snarl, Harry pulling the blankets off of him in one move. “Potter! What the hell!”

“Did your dad mention any of this to you?” Harry asked, ignoring Draco’s indignant glare.

“What?” Draco blinked at the paper Harry was crinkling at him, his eyes catching the company name at the top. “Ooh, I love these guys. They once made me—What? Why are you growling like that?” Draco asked, shimmying up the bed to get away from Harry’s angry expression.

“Is he buying me off?” Harry said ferociously. “Is he trying to get into my pants by buying me fucking pants!”

“What… Father? You think he’s…?” Draco trailed off, Harry watching his friend calculate like the Slytherin he was. “He could be. I wouldn’t put it past him,” Draco said finally, Harry scowling at the answer.

“Do I have slut written on my forehead or something? Why would he think I’d—?”

Draco raised his hand in a pacifying gesture. “Harry, not in that way. He’s just used to being able to do pretty much anything. That he bought you clothes to replace the old ones was just selfishness on his part. Likely because he wants to… Well, you know…” Draco trailed off with a frown. “He’s probably motivated by wanting in your pants, but I doubt he just assumes you’re going to feel obligated to screw him for the clothes. He knows you have your own money.”

Something tense and sick feeling inside of Harry loosened at the words and he sat heavily on Draco’s bed. It had hurt. Not just embarrassment, but outright hurt to think Lucius would think of him in such a way. “You’re sure?”

“Pretty sure. I mean, he’s been very different lately… but Father just has too much class to extort you for sex.” Draco gave Harry a long side glance, Harry catching it and blushing while looking away. He really didn’t need to be extorted for Lucius to get into his pants.

Clearing his throat, Draco sat up fully, handing the paper back to Harry. “So, there was one thing he did say to me that I thought you should know. Just so you don’t… I dunno, get your hopes up, or something.”

Again that flutter in Harry’s stomach, twisting painful in a way he just couldn’t fully understand. “Yeah?” He asked, his mouth feeling dry.

Draco tilted his head side to side for a moment, trying to think of a delicate way to phrase things. “He’s been seeing someone… Maybe more than one… He said it wasn’t ‘dating’ per se, so…”

“Ah.” Harry fell quiet, that uncomfortable feeling in his stomach growing to unbearable as the silence stretched between them. Of course Lucius was off having sex whenever he could. Why wouldn’t he? He was a grown man, extremely attractive, and no longer tied to his wife. What had Harry honestly thought? That Lucius actually had a thing for him? That the man might actually care? Lucius had proven time and time again that he could barely stand Harry’s presence.

“I, uh, didn’t know if I should tell you,” Draco said softly, hesitantly touching Harry’s shoulder. “You kept saying you didn’t like him and—”

“I don’t,” Harry said abruptly, jerking away. “He’s an arrogant ass that thinks he can manipulate me into different clothes just by burning mine and buying me new ones. He’s been mean and vindictive from the beginning, and I can’t stand him.” Harry wished his voice didn’t sound so hollow in his ears. “Fuck him,” he snapped, getting up and walking out of Draco’s room.

The next time Harry saw Lucius, he’d refuse the clothes. Whatever Lucius’s intentions, Harry could not handle the idea that the man might think he could win control over him in this way. Lucius was his host, and had been a damn terrible one, just maliciously assuming Harry knew all the rules while never explaining them. Harry should not want Lucius to care about him. That was just insane. There was already enough crazy going around Malfoy Manor without Harry succumbing to lunacy as well.

SCENE #Lonely rebellion

Lucius did not come back that evening, called away to a conference. Or so Draco said, looking at Harry with something akin to sympathy. Harry wondered if the man was off getting laid, fucking someone closer to his own age, or maybe closer to Harry’s instead. He hated every thought, and Lucius for making him think it at all. The bastard. Driving him crazy, poking at him, taunting him—Hell, touching him until Harry felt on fire. And then just walking away. Just to prove that he could. Because Lucius didn’t give a fuck about him.

The next morning Lucius still wasn’t home. In a fit of childish revenge, Harry went through the cupboards in the kitchen and took down all the boxes of tea. He carefully opened up every single packet of Lucius’s favorite tea, slipping the teabags out and replacing them with the mint that Harry had bought weeks ago before he had found the other tea to taste so good. And then he hid Lucius’s away in Harry’s box, knowing the man would never dare touch a brand so low class.

If Lucius thought what Harry did by accident was so terrible, just wait till the man had to deal with what Harry did on purpose.

By the afternoon, Harry was trailing mud through the kitchen. Blaise and Pansy were over again to swim, but Harry was stuck in pajama pants and unhappily dry. Draco raised a brow at Harry’s deliberate attempts to wipe his bare feet off on the inside of the kitchen door, but didn’t say a word. It wasn’t like it would be difficult for Lucius to clean. But difficulty didn’t seem to equate to the level of annoyance Lucius always seemed to reach when faced with Harry’s messes.

By dinner, Harry had ignored a healthy, deliciously cooked meal prepared by the house elves, for a bowl of cereal. He put the empty box next to the rest of the full ones, left the milk out on the table missing its top—which he had honestly accidentally lost—and left his dirty bowl and spoon in the place setting Lucius always sat. It remained there a day, accumulating two orange peels, three empty mugs of tea and a stack of three more bowls that had once contained cereal and ice cream, depending on Harry’s mood at the time.

The third morning when Harry woke up from a nightmare, he cast a sleeping spell so that he wouldn’t feel compelled to see if Lucius was back yet. His anger had left him feeling gritty inside, raw and bitter with the world. Harry didn’t want to feel that way anymore. He didn’t want to feel a goddamn thing at all when he thought about Lucius, and sleep was much easier than anything else.

SCENE #Jealous tea

Lucius had spent a miserable three days battling with the Ministry to stop the rezoning of residential homes for magic users. There had to be some protection. They couldn’t just expect that wizards and muggles could live side by side without proper defenses against prying eyes and twitchy fingers. Just think if a family like the Dursleys lived side by side with Malfoy Manor? They would have called the police countless times over trivial, pointless things they didn’t understand. They were ignorant and powerless, and would always be afraid of those who were not. And what did they do to those they were afraid of? Apparently they beat them and locked them under stairs in cupboards.

Lucius had done some digging, disguising himself and getting the Hogwarts’ groundskeeper so drunk that Hagrid had ended up bawling out Harry’s unfortunate tale. Lucius had spent the rest of the evening in the dark pub, drinking cheap ale and asking himself what the hell he was doing. Potter wasn’t some child in need of rescue anymore. If he wanted to take revenge on his abusive muggles that was completely up to him.

But Lucius also knew the boy wouldn’t. Wouldn’t want to. Might even have forgiven the wretched creatures. It didn’t sit well with Lucius, and he wasn’t certain why.

The Ministry was pushing for some ‘reasonable’ equality lately, and Lucius and his peers had to push back before the neighborhood went to trash. The Dursleys had taken a little boy into their home and had seen him, not for what he was, but as a monster. If such people could be so blind, so cruel to what was right under their noses, what would happen once a fence and lawn was there to make things look even more exaggerated and frightening? It would be torches and burnings all over again.

“Father, you look like shit,” Draco remarked, drinking down his mug of coffee like a fish in need of caffeinated water. Lucius was momentarily surprised to find his son in the kitchen so early, only to remember it was no longer early. Lucius had stayed out too late with Hagrid, the half-giant’s stories rather interesting once the blond had gotten enough pints in his bloodstream. It was Friday, and he could afford to be late for work after the last three days of torture.

“The Ministry was being difficult,” Lucius disclosed, his eyes slowly moving around his kitchen. It showed the remains of hurricane Harry all over it; mud, dishes—Damn it, the milk! “For some reason they think muggles can be trained to be civilized and domestic. I have living proof to the contrary.”

Pulling out his wand, Lucius began spelling everything clean, grabbing the now cottage cheese that had used to be milk and dumping it down the garbage disposal.

“I told you to leave him alone,” Draco said, his voice carrying a hard edge. “He’s not some plaything. He’s pissed you’re playing dress up with him.”

Pausing in front of his boiling water, Lucius pursed his lips. “So he didn’t like the clothes?”

“Don’t know. A rack of them just arrived but he’s still sleeping.” Draco shrugged, watching his father carefully. “It doesn’t matter if they’re everything he’s ever wanted. He won’t except a gift like that. He sees strings, and let’s face it, you’re not really known for your generosity.”

Lucius sighed heavily, feeling his exhausting week sink deep into his bones. “Do you have any suggestions?” He asked his son, knowing Draco was pushing at something.

“Yeah, stay away from him.”

Lucius did roll his eyes this time. “Drink another cup of coffee and then answer me. He needs clothes. He has practically nothing now.”

“All thanks to you,” Draco reminded, drinking down the rest of his cup with a gulp.

Lucius snapped his head up, glaring. “If you think me remorseful, you are very wrong. Those clothes were unfit for anyone. That he’s Harry Potter, and a guest in my house, is just coincidence.”

“Sure,” the boy drawled, hiding his smirk behind his cup.

“Draco,” Lucius said warningly, tearing a packet of tea open and throwing the teabag into his cup. “If you care anything for your friend, you will help me so that he won’t be walking around in the same disgusting outfit for the rest of the summer.”

Draco shrugged, pretending he didn’t care in the least. Lucius scowled, pouring scalding water into his mug and letting it sit. He then turned to his obnoxious son, arms folded over his chest. It was a silent standoff, Draco fixing his father with a long side glance that eventually broke.

“Fine, whatever,” Draco muttered. “But nothing you do is going to work. Maybe a week ago, but not anymore.”

“Why?” Lucius stared at the handprint he had missed on the wall, looking suspiciously of crushed fruity pebbles. Muggle nonsense junk food…

“Because he’s jealous,” Draco sneered just saying the words, slamming his mug down too roughly on the kitchen island. “The bloody idiot is hurt over you. All you’ve done is treat him like shit, and he’s throwing a damn tantrum that you left. You should have seen him when I told him you’re out with other men—I don’t like any of this, Father. He’s more a mess now than when he left those muggles. I never should have brought him here.”

Lucius stiffened at the implication, his mind stuttering to a halt. Drinking last night had been a mistake because surely that was why he was feeling slightly giddy. Harry was jealous… The little, tormenting, green-eyed demon didn’t want Lucius out, screwing other men. It was interesting. Very interesting.

Lucius snagged his mug from behind him, sipping his tea as he thought. He then paused, scowl spreading across his face while he glared down at the green tinted mixture. Head jerking to the side, he picked up the box of tea, flipping the lid open and glaring at the contents. They looked perfectly normal. He pulled out another packet, tearing it open and sniffing hesitantly.

The goddamn hellion.

Draco silently watched his father dump his tea down the sink and begin tearing through the tea packets one by one, until a pile of torn paper and rejected teabags scattered the counter. Harry had suddenly started drinking his own tea recently, avoiding Lucius’s like the plague. Draco had assumed his friend just didn’t want to have anything to do with his father, including his tea. Apparently not the case. Draco had no interest in telling his father where he thought his tea was hiding, Lucius’s angry muttering extremely satisfying after all the trouble he had caused.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Draco asked innocently, holding up the glass carafe to Lucius.

Glaring at his son threateningly, Lucius swept the pile of dreadful mint tea into the dumpster. He had to get to work. He had to get himself together, face his day with the right foot forward, and do what needed to be done. Lucius had done it everyday, even when his father had beaten him near death the night before, even when his son had been born, even when his wife decided that family and duty just wasn’t enough and had packed up and left. Lucius had moved resilient during every instance in his life, letting go of the irrelevant and forging forward as he knew he must.

Today, Lucius had to get to work.

“I’m going to shave,” he muttered to his smirking son, turning on his heel and leaving the kitchen. Once in the upstairs hallway, Lucius ignored the many things he had to do, and instead stalked towards the room Harry was still sleeping in. Work be damned.

SCENE #Spell gone wrong

“My tea, Potter? Every drop of my tea?” Lucius stood in the doorway, glaring into the dim lighting of the room, drapes still closed tight. Harry didn’t stir. Odd, because he knew the boy was a light sleeper, always jumping awake at the sound of people walking by his door. Realizing the brat was playing possum, Lucius shut the door behind him and glided to the bed to loom menacingly.

Harry continued to lie still, chest rising peacefully in rhythm to his quiet breaths of air. He was beautiful, unassuming and taunting at the same time. “Potter, you’re not fooling me. I’ve seen enough people pretending…” Lucius stopped, frowning at just how still the air seemed to be around Harry’s bed.

Maybe the little brat wasn’t pretending.

Glancing around the room to the nightstand, bureau, and even trunk when very little of any items could be found, Lucius sought out Harry’s wand. Surely he wouldn’t… But no, it was in his hand, fingers curled lightly around it, power still active as it drew energy from Harry’s unconscious form. Judging the situation carefully for a few long moments, Lucius eventually reached his hand out, knocking Harry’s elbow so that the wand went flying out of the boy’s grasp and clattered safely on the ground.

“Potter?” Lucius asked, bending over as the stillness began to fade, the spell slipping away without power to drain. When Harry didn’t answer, Lucius gently touched his cheek.

Harry gasped, hands flying out in front of him, eyes snapping open to reveal pure terror. Lucius remained perfectly still, allowing Harry to adjust to reality and release whatever nightmare he had been caught in.

“L-Lucius?” Harry finally asked, his body slowly relaxing. “Why are you…?” He squinted, reaching for his glasses on the nightstand. Lucius grabbed his hand before he could, pinning Harry’s wrists to the mattress.

“What did you do? Was that… intentional?” Lucius asked cautiously, trying to read the boy’s face. All he could discern was confusion and the beginnings of a flush on Harry’s cheeks.

“I don’t understand. I haven’t done anything,” Harry self-consciously muttered, wishing Lucius wasn’t leaning so close. He was supposed to be angry at the man, not pleased to find him in his bedroom. Lucius always disoriented him.

“You cast a sleeping charm on yourself,” Lucius said tightly, Harry blinking back.

“S-So? Ron used to do it all the time, whenever I woke up with nightmares at school and couldn’t sleep. I just… I just wanted to sleep, that’s all,” Harry whispered, looking away from the intense silver gaze boring into him.

Lucius’s frown deepened to severe. “The next time you wake up from a nightmare, you will either wake Draco or me. We will cast you asleep. One must never cast themselves asleep, Potter. Never.”

“W-Why?” Harry asked, gaze jumping back at the almost desperate note in Lucius’s voice.

“Because if you are not discovered, you will sleep to death. That is why we have sleeping draughts and even disposable charms. By Merlin—Do you know nothing!” Lucius pushed himself away with a frustrated growl, Harry rubbing his wrists from the dull pain he had left.

Harry sat up unsteadily, his heart pounding in his chest. He slipped his glasses on, tracking Lucius’s movements as the man paced haltingly in his bedroom. Harry opened his mouth to speak, to explain he hadn’t realized, when Lucius turned and fixed him with a glare. Harry clicked his mouth shut, silent.

“I’m sorry about your clothes,” Lucius said roughly, his teeth possibly cracking for how tight his jaw was clenched.

“W-What?” Harry asked, completely flabbergasted.

“I am sorry I burned your clothes. It was wrong of me. I was behaving rudely. Please accept the new clothing as my apology.” He knew he sounded disingenuous, but Lucius could not think straight, could not smooth himself as needed to say whatever was required to fix this maddening boy. He wanted to yell and roar, and possibly break things—Nothing that was of use at the moment.

Eyes wide as saucers, Harry nodded his acceptance, unable to speak at the moment. Lucius Malfoy did not apologize. Harry knew because Draco never apologized, and the boy was a pale echo of his father’s stubbornness. Lucius went to leave, and Harry snapped to reality. “Wait!”

Lucius froze, glaring over his shoulder. Harry stilled at the molten gaze, but forced himself to continue. “Don’t leave here thinking I tried to hurt myself. I would never—Not intentionally. I’m j-just, well, muggle raised. I don’t always know what everyone else knows.”

Lucius gave a curt nod and was out the door before Harry had finished his sentence. He was down the stairs moments later, growling loudly, the noise growing as he passed the kitchen and garbage full of tea.

“Father, you’re not ready—What’s wrong?” Draco asked, leaning around the corner, coffee mug still in hand.

“I’m going out,” Lucius said tersely, watching his son cringe at his murderous tone.

“But work…” Draco blinked at Lucius, looking all the world like a wide eyed snowy owl fallen from its perch. “Father, you’re only in a t-shirt. At least put on a proper shirt before—” Draco yelped, falling backwards as Lucius sent a vase smashing across the hallway in the opposite direction.

“Watch Potter!” Was all Lucius managed to spit out before rounding out the back door and apparating with a thunderous crack.

SCENE #Draco’s war at home

Harry was just pulling himself free of the bedspread when Draco came rushing in, a mix of fear and confusion on his face. “What happened! Did you fight! Was it the clothes!”

Harry stumbled backwards from the assault of questions, nearly braining himself on the nightstand. Situating his glasses back on his face, Harry blanched to find Draco right in his personal space. “W-what?”

“What happened?” Draco repeated, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and shaking him. It would have been comical if Harry didn’t feel so bloody dizzy and light headed since waking. Sleep charms always left him groggy.

Harry lightly shoved his friend away, falling back to sit on the bed. “I’m not sure,” he said weakly, eyes focusing on his wand. For some reason it was on the floor where anyone could step on it. Harry quickly picked it up and placed it safely on the nightstand.

“My father just mauled a vase while running out of here. Something happened!” Draco hissed, looking Harry up and down. The boy didn’t look particularly ravished, just the same old mess of hair as always. Which just left fighting. But whatever they were fighting about had to be beyond anything normal. Lucius was not the type to have fits of rages. Especially around his family. The man held a steel trap on his anger, Draco suspected because Lucius’s father had been reputed to be brutal with his fury.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably, looking up at Draco. “I think he thought I had done something.”

“The tea? He got worked up over the damn tea!”

“Stop yelling,” Harry urged, wincing when Draco hit one of his particularly screeching notes. “It wasn’t the tea. I woke up after a nightmare and charmed myself asleep. He seemed to think that it was a bad thing to do.”

Draco blinked, trying to process the information. “So? I use charms all the time when I can’t sleep. We all do…”

“No,” Harry amended, realizing he had phrased things wrong. “I used my wand. I cast a sleep charm on myself.”

Draco gaped. Without warning, he reached over and punched Harry in the arm. “Are you out of your mind? You could have killed yourself! If I had tried to wake you and didn’t know it, I could have ended up dead too! Everyone knows—!”

Harry grabbed Draco’s fists before the boy could swing again. “I didn’t. Muggle raised. I never even cast one before. Ron usually did it for me. I didn’t know there was a problem with a simple spell like that.”

Draco snapped his mouth shut, relaxing his grip so Harry would let him go. Draco then punched his friend again, Harry swearing at the obvious sham. “Potter, if this had happened three days ago, Father could have walked in on both of us starved while asleep. You need to think before you act. Ignorance is no fucking excuse.”

Harry knew from experience that three days was not long enough to starve, but it didn’t seem the right time to bring up the fact. “I will never do it again, I promise. I didn’t know. Now I do. I’m more concerned your father is calling to have me admitted for trying to off myself like a nutter.”

Draco shook his head at the words. “He knows you’re an idiot—At least, that’s what he’s always telling me. I doubt he thinks that it was on purpose.”

Harry was not so certain. “He thinks everything I do is on purpose. Like it’s my life’s goal to bother him. I’m sure this is just another in the long list. Get this—He apologized to me about burning my clothes.”

“No he didn’t,” Draco said flatly, wondering if maybe Harry was losing his mind.

“Yeah, he did. Told me the new clothes were to be taken as an apology. He must think I’m off my rocker, saying something like that to me.”

Draco blinked wearily a few times and then sprawled back on Harry’s bed. His life was going to shit. All he wanted to do was have his friend over for the summer so Harry would be safe and he could have company. How did it get so complicated?

Draco knew it was the drawbacks of being friends with Harry; it always had been. The boy was a Gryffindor—The worst offense. He was also an absolute troublemaker, always dragging Draco into so much danger at school just to get them out of it almost as quickly. And of course, he was such a mental headcase, like crazy emotional mess when it came to anything more complicated than holding hands. That Lucius had gotten sucked in was just one more casualty to the wild war that was Harry Potter.

Lucius had apologized. Draco wasn’t certain exactly what it meant, but it was bad. Very fucking bad. Life changing, earth shattering, his father was losing his shit bad. And then he had gotten angry and broken something. Draco was going to be an orphan. Worse, he was going to be Longbottom, having two parents that were so out of their minds they couldn’t do a damn thing. He was turning into Neville.

Harry watched his friend sigh with deep angst and emotion, not sure what to do. “I swear, Draco. I wouldn’t put you at risk like that. I really didn’t know.”

Draco sighed again, covering his eyes with his hands. “Potter, shut up for a second.”

Harry did, scratching the back of his head.

After a few minutes Draco sat up, resolved to face the day. “He’s a grown man. He can take care of himself. Let’s get you into some clothes already and get out of the house. I’ll leave a note, just in case Father comes back.” Draco said it all very deliberately, as if they were planning a military strategy, and not an outing for fun. Harry nodded, not about to disagree.

SCENE #Lucius hunts for answers

Lucius was feeling like a rabid wolf, foaming and confused, and wanting to strike out. So it was no surprise to him when he found himself in the Silver Forest of Zasu, quite literally his old hunting grounds. He used to come out here when he was in his twenties to hone his accuracy and release his frustrations. The sleek and beautiful Basial, no larger than a bobcat with their speed and dangerous claws, had been Lucius’s favorite prey, to the point that he would not kill them for he respected the creatures too much. He would, however, stalk them down and stun the hell out of them.

He was not prepared. No water or weapons beyond his wand. As a wizard, his magic was everything. It could sustain him with summoning liquid, striking down enemies, and even apparating far away if he came across a foe too dangerous. But the intense focus needed for such actions was beyond Lucius right now. He was angry. He wanted to fight something. And he wanted to get hurt doing it.

Beneath his anger was a feeling. It burned his veins. Twisted his stomach. Stole the moisture from his mouth. It compelled him to do crazy, irrational things—Like apologize. Lucius did not want to have this feeling. It had left him after his third lashing, along with the boy he had protected, and Lucius had promised he would never let it in again. He was not some flighty child that could afford such emotion. Even as a young man his father had proven to Lucius he could not afford such weakness.

He stilled, the forest strange around him, different than moments ago. He was not being quiet enough. All small prey had fled with each ill-controlled step he took. There was a thin, soft carpet of leaves beneath his feet, hard packed earth of the old trail peeking through. Trees rose up tall around him, their canopy so thick that the mid day light left dark shadows on the ground, dazzling spots of blinding sun bouncing up at Lucius’s eyes. In one of those large shadows was something… Something too big to be a Basial.

That giddy feeling in his kitchen should have warned him away but he had been foolish. After so many years, he had been confident that nothing could rouse his heart again. Mostly because he had half wondered if it had been damaged the way his body had. For every scar Lucius hid on his body, his heart echoed.

The dragon was small, not fully grown. It was not sleeping, but may have been moments ago. Its tail, slithering over the texture of the underbrush, had caught Lucius’s attention. The stillness of the forest, warning him away from the pile of scrubby brush and broken twigs that on closer inspection were bones, kept Lucius from making the wrong move. His anger drained, to replace with adrenaline. He had come looking for a fight, but a massacre was less of interest.

Lucius knew Harry was powerful. Draco used to come home summers, raving with clear jealousy that the boy-who-lived had exploded another thing, sometimes another person. But he was also so fragile. Something right beneath the surface, fluttering desperate for attention, while at the same time begging to never be exposed. Lucius recognized it. The desperate, helpless cry for affection, even while brusquely telling himself that it was a weakness. The want for protection, even though as a wizard nothing should ever physically hurt again.

Lucius stopped his edging steps away. The dragon swished in its dwelling, puffing dark smoke, warning him that to continue to stand there was to risk more than just claw and fang. Lucius stood his ground.

What was the worst that could happen? The boy could find him too old? Too dull? Perhaps he wouldn’t, not right away. Maybe it would be the rest of summer, only to have Harry go back to school and never think of him again. While something inside Lucius might hurt… Might even break and never heal again. Was that the very worst thing?

The brush gave a shudder as the hiding beast roared, more smoke rising, roiling a dark cloud of scalding steam around them. Lucius cast a spell over his eyes, allowing him to see through the ash. It was lumbering up, long neck twisting, leathery wings unfurling as they cracked through the brambles and thorns of its nest.

Was a burn worth the dazzle of fire up close? Wasn’t that always the consequence? Everyone knew that to stand before a dragon was the surest way to get burned. What about hellfire? The demonic, green-eyed trickster, likely tearing up his house at that very moment, was full of hellfire. What would that burn like if Lucius stayed to find out?

SCENE #A tentative truce

Harry had never worn clothes that felt as good as the ones Mr. Adler produced. Even if some of them made him look like a preppy, stuck up poof, they all felt amazing on his skin. He had never expected that with expensive clothes. He had assumed they would be so formal and uncomfortable that all he would do was itch—Like church clothing. It was a new experience, one purely thanks to Lucius and his messed up behavior.

Harry was wearing a pair of silky dark green pajamas, not made to look particularly spectacular, but somehow managing to look just that, while also whispering over his skin like a caress with every movement. It made Harry think of Lucius’s hands moving over him, firm and warm, sometimes just brushing gently when seeking out holes. But then he started wondering where Lucius’s hands were at that very moment and on whose body. Likely on someone with clothing that had never been owned long enough to see a hole. It was a terrible feeling and Harry ducked his head and huffed.

Harry had been sitting in the kitchen for an hour and forty-five minutes after his latest nightmare. Lucius had not come back again and Harry had been left ruminating on where the man went when not at home or at work. And then he had been stuck brooding on why he had to care so much. Lucius was a bother, a total pain, and he couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Had he fallen for Lucius like some idiotic, love-crazed, hormonal teenager? Shit, Pansy wasn’t even this bad and she’d been obsessed with the man for years.

How the hell had Lucius gotten to him? Harry had so many defenses in place to avoid ever getting close—Or even desiring to get close. People hurt him. Especially people that got under his guard. Harry knew the ways Draco would hurt him, and had accepted that as part of their friendship, the same with Ron and Hermione. Lucius had somehow gotten closer, digging in with his cruel comments and offhanded compliments, making Harry so confused, he had lost his mind and dropped all his barriers without even knowing it.

There was a thud down the hall, Harry listening intently. It was the arrival chamber, the sound of bags banging through the floo. Harry was not surprised when Lucius appeared minutes later, slipping through the kitchen door since the man hated floo travel.

Harry observed Lucius silently as he stepped in, wishing he wasn’t so damn happy and angry to see the man. Then he sat up straight, jumping to his feet in a hurry. “You’re bleeding!”

Lucius grunted, eyes narrowing when he caught sight of Harry. The shoulder of his white undershirt was burnt black and torn, revealing bloodied flesh beneath it. “Potter, why are you always haunting my kitchen?”

Concern lodging in his throat, Harry glared instead. He reached across the table, picking up a still sealed cannister of Floral Delights orange and cinnamon passionflower blend tea. He dropped it into Lucius’s grasp. “I’m sorry I messed with your tea. This has a sealing charm on it, so it’s always fresh.”

Lucius glanced at the canister, a strange smirk twisting his lips for a moment. “It’s looseleaf.”

“Yeah. The saleslady said it’s more potent when you can… What?” Harry sighed at the bemused expression pointed his way.

“I don’t have anything to brew looseleaf tea with.”

“Oh, well, sorry. I can go buy something to—”

“You can’t seem to get anything right.” Lucius cut him off, placing the tea down on the counter and hissing as his shoulder pulled.

Jolting as if struck, Harry really hoped Lucius’s shoulder hurt more than it looked. “Right, so I’m going to go anywhere else but here right now,” Harry grumbled, turning away to leave.

“Everyone else in the house always hated tea,” Lucius continued, hand falling on Harry’s shoulder and holding him still. “It’s very difficult to indulge oneself when you have people nattering about just how dreary your enjoyments are. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Harry glanced to the side. Lucius sounded conversational instead of how he had initially thought insulting. “I enjoy the tea,” he said after a moment, still wary.

“Even though it’s herbal and doesn’t give you a jump in the morning.”

“After my nightmares, the last thing I need is a swig of caffeine. And really, who wants to have to rely on a drug just to be able to wake up?” Harry turned halfway, resting his hip on the counter.

“Exactly. They can’t even get themselves moving without their addiction. I can’t imagine dragging myself out of bed every morning… just hoping for what might be waiting in my kitchen.” Lucius was staring at Harry very peculiarly, his tongue running over his teeth. Harry met the man’s gaze, taking a step back when Lucius grinned wickedly.

“How do you like the new clothes?” Lucius asked, predatory eyes running up and down Harry’s pajama clad form.

Harry blushed and shrugged, biting his lip and taking another step back. He had told himself he wasn’t going to get caught up with Lucius again. That he didn’t want the man to touch him, no matter how nice an idea it might seem at the time. “They’re, uh, soft. Nice on my skin.” Harry flinched internally, hating his brain from bringing up the most superficial aspect of the clothes when Lucius was looking at him that way.

“Are they?” Lucius didn’t step, so much as glide forward until he was trapping Harry into the corner of the counter. He slipped his hand up, running his fingertips over the buttons of Harry’s top.

Harry raised his head, telling himself he wasn’t falling for any of it. “What happened to your shoulder? It looks… Did you get scorched by a dragon?” He carefully touched Lucius’s arm, pulling at the singed fabric, which crumbled beneath his fingertips. “What were you doing?”

“Letting off some steam,” Lucius said simply, unbuttoning the top button of Harry’s shirt.

“You need a healer. I’d do it but with my luck lately you’d end up with another burn.”

“I’m fine.” Lucius pulled another button free, eyes glancing up to the boy’s blushing face. “So you’re keeping the clothes?”

Harry turned his head slightly away, Lucius breathing too close and making him feel hot all over. He was standing only an inch away and Harry could feel the man’s body heat radiating. It was strange having Lucius in short sleeves with his muscles exposed and bulging. Almost indecent after always seeing him in a dress shirt. But Lucius had asked him something… about keeping the clothes…

Harry blushed as the silence stretched. “Yes,” he said awkwardly. “It beats the alternative.”

“Walking around my kitchen nude, right?” Lucius smirked again, lips brushing over Harry’s ear and making his knees shake.

Come on! How did the man do that? Harry ducked away, managing to get under Lucius’s arm and free from the corner. He breathed out shakily, running a hand through his dark locks. “Listen, Lucius. I just need you to know I wasn’t intentionally trying to kill myself… or Draco for that matter, or anything like that.”

“I know,” Lucius said, turning and leaning against the counter and tracking Harry with his gaze. The man was strangely calm. No anger bubbling beneath the surface. Harry actually found it unnerving. At least when Lucius was angry, he knew what to expect. Well, not really—But at least he knew the man was angry. Now he didn’t even know that much.

“I’m serious. I need to make sure you don’t think I was trying to, you know…”

“I do know.” Lucius held his hand out and Harry, for reasons absolutely unknown to him, took it. Lucius pulled him close, wrapping his arms loosely around Harry’s hips, leaving inches again between them. He ran his eyes down the front of the boy’s shirt, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows. “It is the most damnedest thing, you know.”

Harry shook his head, not knowing a thing at the moment, Lucius feeling warm and comforting. This was the feeling he had told himself to avoid. This fuzzy thing that seemed to have less to do with sexual attraction and more with those awful emotions he couldn’t handle.

“You don’t have any holes.”

“I better not. I just got the damn things,” Harry muttered, raising his arm to make sure he hadn’t already torn his new clothes.

“It’s odd,” Lucius said, dipping his head lower, breathing in the scent of Harry’s skin and soft hair. “I think I miss them.”

Harry shivered, fire spreading over his skin. He had suspected as much, Lucius such a neurotic pain that he probably had some secret—or in this case just blatant—kink for his horrible clothes. Maybe now Lucius would leave him alone… Go off and chase his line of wealthy pretty people that would know how to be proper around a man like him. Harry internally scowled at the thought.

Gently pushing at Lucius’s biceps, careful to not harm his injured shoulder, Harry stepped back. “Right, so I just wanted to be clear about that sleeping charm. I won’t ever do anything like that again. And you don’t need to worry.”

“I know.” Lucius kept looking at him, so calm, so intently, and Harry felt like some stupid frozen idiot. He didn’t want to go. He wasn’t angry enough to leave, or angry enough to kiss the man, for that matter. So he was just kind of stuck, resting his back on the kitchen table and holding onto the lip behind him. Lucius mirrored his posture on the counter, eyebrows raised with a small smile quirking his lips.

“Did you want some tea?” Lucius eventually asked.

“Err… looseleaf, remember?” Harry reminded quietly.

“Right, but I also bought some.” Lucius moved, Harry’s eyes following the man’s feet as he stepped around and left the kitchen to grab the bags he had sent through the floo. Harry heard them rustling behind him, Lucius placing bundles on the table. Harry wondered briefly if this was when Lucius would start giving him crap about the tea, and he turned expectantly. His eyes widened, counting quickly while Lucius carefully arranged the boxes in front of him.

“Didn’t want to take any chances,” Lucius murmured when Harry continued to gape. “Anything you take a shine to tends to need quick replacement or you become… lets say, messy,” Lucius drawled, pointing to the cereal coated handprint he had forgotten to clean.

Harry blushed, finding his voice. “I’m not going to drink all of that! You’ve got at least twenty boxes there.”

“Well, that is the hope. That you might be willing to share.”

Harry snapped his eyes up, watching Lucius fight a smile. The prat was mocking him. But not in a mean way… more playful. “What the hell did that dragon do to you?”

“Pardon?” Lucius asked, his smile breaking free.

Harry swore quietly under his breath—Lucius should not be allowed to smile. Not with the morning light turning his gray eyes pale blue, his blond hair fanning soft around his face, and with two days stubble on his jaw. It was very much unfair to his senses. “Do you have a concussion? Fever? Why are you smiling?”

Lucius tried to fight his smile back, but it only worked for a moment, now his perfectly white teeth coming into play. Harry bit his thumb, crushing it against his lips while narrowing his eyes warily. This was a different game from Lucius, and one Harry was not certain he could win.

“I was thinking of something,” Lucius admitted quietly, stepping around the table and snagging Harry’s free wrist. He pulled it up, running his other hand over Harry’s palm, fingers tripping and teasing lightly.

“And what would that be?” Harry asked around his thumb, eyes jumping from his hand to Lucius’s thankfully diminished smile. The full wattage had been nearly blinding.

“Something Draco had said the other morning. About why you were so upset.” Lucius pulled Harry’s wrist up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the narrow flesh.

There couldn’t be any way to turn redder, but he managed. Even though they had a chair between them, Harry felt completely exposed and vulnerable all of a sudden. “Upset?”

“Yes. He had thought you were jealous.” Lucius was smiling again, now against Harry’s wrist. “It was a nice thought, Harry.”

Harry was pretty sure he was going to bite right through his own thumb. Why was it nice? Why was Lucius smiling like that, like someone sweet and caring, and thinking him being jealous was nice? And the way he had just said his name, ‘Harry,’ like it was the best sounding word out there. Like maybe Lucius liked him? Like maybe he might even more than like him… Harry suddenly became aware of his heart racing in his ears, pounding in his chest.

Lucius’s grip on Harry’s wrist tightened, his head tilting slightly, eyes watching as the boy’s breath quickened. “It’s okay.”

Harry shook his head, his lungs feeling tight. “Not… not even.” Fuck, he was having a panic attack. Lucius might actually like him, and his response was to freak out like some weak, crazy idiot, and have a panic attack. Fuck. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Calm down… just focus on breathing.” Lucius stepped around the chair, his smile replaced with concern. Harry stepped back, eyes wide, but Lucius didn’t seem to notice. He pulled Harry’s thumb from the death grip his teeth had on it, and held the boy firmly by the shoulders. “Just breathe. Close your eyes.”

That seemed even more impossible than breathing at the moment, the man’s intense gaze snaring Harry so completely while he struggled to get air in. As if understanding, Lucius gently placed his palm over Harry’s brow and pressed his eyelids down.

“Good. Now just focus on your breathing. Think of how you want to breathe, nice and slow. Try and pull in as much air as you can… Hold it in your lungs as long as you can… And then release it, as slow as possible, making a soft hissing noise.”

Harry wondered how Lucius knew this. Draco had never known anyone to have panic attacks before Harry. He had never told anyone besides Draco, afraid to be made fun of. Afraid if others knew his weakness it would somehow make him even weaker.

“You’re doing fine. I know it’s frightening to not have your breath but it’s right there. It just feels out of reach.”

Lucius was right; it was right there, just hovering out of reach. Harry’s lungs kept moving, spasming like some flopping fish, but he was surrounded by air. He just had to reach for it.

“H-How… do you… know?” Harry gasped.

“My mother. She couldn’t handle my father well… Not many of us could.” Lucius ran his palm over Harry’s back in small, soothing circles. His voice was low, lulling and reassuring. “But when I reminded her she wasn’t alone in those moments, she would eventually calm and breathe again.”

Harry focused on the feeling of warmth moving over his back. The even breaths from Lucius puffing over his cheek, ruffling his hair. The scent of the man, currently charred and tinged with sweat. And the tea, the smell of tea was below it all as the boxes rested on the table.

“There you go.” Lucius didn’t stop rubbing Harry’s back, even as his breathing leveled to something calm and normal. “How do you feel?” He asked, fingers gently pressing to Harry’s cheek until the boy opened his eyes.

“Embarrassed,” Harry admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

Lucius nodded as if it were perfectly okay. “Sometimes our body wants to tell us something so much, it stops everything else until you have to pay attention. Once you realize what yours is trying to say to you, it should stop sending such a loud message.”

Harry looked away, not wanting to think about why he had panicked. “I, um, can smell the tea.”

“Then let’s have some tea.” Lucius turned to put the kettle on, again flinching when he lifted his shoulder too high.

Harry watched him, his mind somehow quiet in the man’s ritual movements. “Tell me what happened to your shoulder.”

“Afraid I burned someone’s luggage?” Lucius teased, glancing behind him to catch Harry’s blush.

“No.” Harry bit his lip, thinking if Lucius had, he’d be really jealous about it. Which was just stupid and crazy. His eyes followed down the muscles of Lucius’s back, catching on the hem of his shirt stained with dirt, belt peeking out below. There was dust and drops of blood, black blood, staining his trousers, the amount increasing the closer to Lucius’s mud covered shoes. This was probably the messiest Harry had ever seen Lucius and he had to admit, he liked it.

Lucius turned, a steaming mug in hand that he handed to Harry to let steep. Harry tried to hold it but still felt weak, and placed it on the table for the moment. There was little room with all the boxes, but he managed.

“Have you ever been hunting?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t really like guns.”

“No guns, just wands. It’s much easier to catch and release. Although, that is not always the common ideology,” Lucius added with a purse to his lips.

“Was that what you were doing?” Harry scratched the back of his head, taking in the rip on Lucius’s right knee and the tear in the seam of his shirt under his left elbow. Had Lucius been hunting and only managed to get a couple spots of dirt on him? It figured.

“Sometimes you really need to move.” Lucius tried a sip of his tea, blowing lightly while he poked at the teabag bobbing at the top. “Otherwise, you just go mad.”

Nodding, Harry observed the man through lowered lashes. Lucius did seem less mad. “So hunting is good for that? Moving enough to stop being crazy.”

“Sometimes. You’ll find yourself hard pressed to find many sports among wizards that don’t involve a huge team and overly complicated rules. Although flying can help too,” Lucius added, remembering Harry was a seeker in that moment. His eyes lingered on the boy, but still he made no move to do anything but talk. “You haven’t had your tea.”

Harry blinked down, reaching for the mug, his hand unsteady. He could feel Lucius watching him, but the man didn’t comment on his weakness after his panic attack.

“Maybe you’d like to try hunting?” Lucius suggested while Harry fumbled with his cup and finally managed to get a sip of the hot liquid. “It’s much safer with more than one person.”

“Maybe.” The tea was soothing and Harry continued to take long sips from it even though it burned.

“Maybe you’d prefer something indoors?” Lucius continued, his gaze intent on Harry’s face. “With less chance of hazards?”

Harry rolled his eyes, fire rising to his cheeks again. “I’m not going to hurt myself hunting. I’m very good at shooting things that don’t move. I do it all the time, and no one is hurt.”

Lucius smirked, placing his tea down. Harry watched him warily over the top of his mug, but that was also removed by the man’s very steady hands. The boxes were going to get crushed. All that tea smooshed. Harry was having a difficult time caring, anticipation thrumming in him. Lucius pushed Harry back, boxes tumbling to the floor with a dull clatter. Harry gazed up, wondering where his mug had gone even as Lucius pressed ever closer to his face.

“Actually, I was thinking dinner.”

“W-what?” Harry asked, certain he had misheard things. Lucius was inches from his ear, but it was very difficult to hear over the blood rushing in his veins.

“I’d like to take you to dinner. Just the two of us.”

Harry’s mouth felt dry. “Um…”

Lucius was asking him out on a date. The man had gone mad. All this calm was just the beginning of the end because there was no way Lucius could want to date him.

“We could go out or stay in. Whatever you like, Harry.” Lucius had found the buttons to the boy’s shirt again but was ignoring them for the way the material gaped in between. He slipped a finger through the slit of smooth fabric, brushing against Harry’s chest.

“Uh… that is… if you want,” Harry mumbled, eyes fluttering shut at the soft touch.

Lucius pressed his lips to the boy’s ear, then parted them, nipping lightly on the outer curl. Harry breathed out noisily, his shoulders jerking suddenly. “I want to know what you want.”

“Oh.” Eyes blinking open, Harry’s gaze fell to the collar of Lucius’s t-shirt stained with a touch of char and sweat. He reached his hand up, tugging at it lightly, watching with interest when the man swallowed, the hollow of his throat fluttering in response. “What about Draco?”

“He’s not invited.”

“That’s not what—”

“I could send him to live with his mother,” Lucius offered dryly before nipping Harry’s throat.

Harry gasped, then moaned as Lucius’s tongue soothed over the heated mark. “G-Going out might be nice.” So what if Lucius was mad as a hatter? Harry really wanted to go on a date with him.

“Tonight?” Lucius asked, mouth suddenly below Harry’s ear, lightly sucking on the sensitive flesh. “I can reserve us something.”

“Okay… just nothing too stuffy,” Harry added, panting softly. “I get nervous around fancy things.”

“And then you break them. I am well aware,” Lucius purred.

Harry’s eyes widened, hands suddenly clinging to the man’s back when Lucius wrapped an arm around his hips and pushed their lower bodies together. “Hell—Not on purpose.”

“Of course,” Lucius agreed unconvincingly, his mouth opening wider, tongue laving Harry’s neck in a long swipe. “You are extremely well behaved.”

Harry groaned, his head falling back to crush a box of tea. “I am,” he insisted weakly.

Lucius found another spot to suck on Harry’s throat, pulling a heated moan from the boy. “I’m not disagreeing.”

“You are… you jerk.” Harry knew sarcasm, especially Lucius’s special brand of it even when kissed into his flesh. More boxes suddenly thumped to the ground, along with the metallic ring of a spoon, Harry’s retort lost when Lucius pushed him further towards the center of the table.

Hips holding Harry in place, Lucius raised himself enough to finally get the rest of the boy’s buttons. He carefully spread the dark green fabric aside, revealing Harry’s warm honey flesh flushed with want. Harry watched, feeling almost in a dream when Lucius bent his head and ran his tongue over one of his dusky nipples, pulling the nub into his mouth and sucking.

“Oh… oh god,” Harry gasped, his brows furrowed, breathing strained. He wrapped his hands in Lucius’s hair, running fingers through. The table gave a warning groan and Harry whimpered, pulling to get the man’s attention. “Lucius.”

“I know.” Lucius didn’t stop what he was doing, gently biting and tugging at Harry’s sore bud.

“The table’s going to…” Harry tried again, another moan stealing his train of thought.

“You just can’t help yourself,” Lucius said with a sigh, moving to give the other nipple the same treatment.

Harry gaped, his hips jolting up to rub against the man’s hard body. “Damn—Oh hell… oh… You’re heavier than me.”

Lucius hummed into Harry’s chest, tongue moving in languid trails. “I’ve had this table for ten years. Now, all of a sudden, it’s breaking. I’m pretty sure this is your doing, Potter.”

Harry gave an indignant growl, only to cry out, clutching Lucius tight as the table shuddered, the last of the boxes tumbling to the floor as one of the legs snapped. Lucius kept Harry from following, his arm still wrapped around the boy’s hips. He pulled Harry to his feet, Harry feeling dizzy, face full of heat from the change in position.

“You are a troublesome thing,” Lucius murmured, mouth attached to the brunette’s neck once again, bristle tingling and prickling Harry’s smooth flesh. “I’m going to have to ward the entire house against you.”

Eyes closing and body moving into the touch, Harry gave a small shrug. “It couldn’t hurt.”

Lucius growled, pulling Harry closer, hands moving more heatedly as they found the small of the boy’s back beneath his open shirt. “If I kiss you, will you panic?” He asked, Harry noticing it wasn’t quite a joke this time.

“I don’t know.”

Lucius ran his lips over Harry’s face, touching down ever so softly against his cheeks, bridge of his nose, chin, and pausing to hover above his mouth. “You’re still shaking.”

“So? I’m not afraid,” Harry whispered. “You don’t frighten me.” It was true. Even when yelling, Lucius didn’t frighten him.

“But you still panicked,” Lucius reminded gently, hand reaching up to touch Harry’s cheek.

Harry still wasn’t sure why he had done that, not wanting to think about it. Lucius smelled so good, and was warm and close to him. He was also being extraordinarily nice, having gone completely mental, and Harry aimed to enjoy it. “Yeah… but I still want a kiss… A lot of kisses.”

It was convincing enough for a kiss, Lucius only hesitating a moment before descending the last inch to Harry’s lips. Harry felt himself melt, Lucius’s mouth that hot, lips sinking against his, tongue slowly flicking against the boy’s parted moan. The world spun again, refrigerator magnets digging into Harry’s back, something thumping to the ground that could have been a pile of potholders from the counter. Then Harry’s shirt was being pulled from him, Lucius’s warm hands possessively running over every bare inch of him.

“Lucius, I…” Harry trailed off with a groan, the man’s leg pushing between his thighs and rubbing against his hard, silk covered bulge. Harry was certain he was going to be suffocated by Lucius, by his heat and clothing, and strong, firm flesh pressing into him at every spot it could. But Harry could breathe damn fine through it, and had no complaints.

“I want to taste you. Will you let me do that?” Lucius asked, tongue and teeth moving over Harry’s neck until the brunette’s head lolled to the side to give more access. “I want to feel you on my lips, dripping down my tongue.” He rocked against Harry, his hardness tight against the boy’s hip.

Harry smirked uncontrollably, his eyes mere slits of emerald beneath his heavy lashes. “Like I’m going to say no to that?”

Lucius caught the heated look, his hand grabbing the back of Harry’s neck and holding tightly. He kissed the boy hard, demanding until Harry began to grab at his shirt and tried to tear it from him. Only to accidentally hit the man’s burn, both of them flinching at the same time from it.

“We need to heal that,” Harry insisted but Lucius only grunted and surged forward to kiss him again.

Harry resisted, not so much for the wound, but because the magnets were sticking painfully in his back, and he had caught sight of the clock. “It’s almost ten. He’ll be up.”

“Then I’ll have to be content with not savoring,” Lucius said with a lascivious smile that made Harry turn completely red, and if imaginable, grow harder.

“But what if we get caught—Oh… And you’re on your knees again,” Harry groaned weakly, Lucius’s hands already pulling down his waistband while the man licked across his flat stomach. How did he always end up without clothes on in the strangest places of Malfoy Manor?

Lucius’s breath felt unimaginably hot as the blond teased lower, dragging across the thin trail of hair from Harry’s belly button down to where it thickened over taut muscle and parted for Harry’s straining cock. Breath moved teasingly over Harry’s flushed tip while Lucius pinned the boy’s hips in place with his large hands. Harry forced his head forward, refusing to miss anything even if his eyes kept wanting to shut.

Silver eyes blazed up at Harry. His breath caught in his throat, Harry watched transfixed as Lucius parted his swollen lips and licked a firm path up the underside of his dick. “Oh hell,” Harry yelped, hands flying to the top of Lucius’s head and tangling in his hair.

“Quiet now… You don’t want to wake anyone,” Lucius reminded, his voice already a little hoarse, as if just thinking about sucking Harry off could do that to him. He kissed up the side of Harry’s swaying length, tongue flicking out, drawing small wet circles as he went. Harry did his best to be quiet, swallowing down the whine threatening to break free. It wasn’t working and he gave into quiet swears, hoping it wouldn’t draw too much notice if Draco was awake and walking around already.

“Shit… oh shit… Lucius, that’s… oh hell.” Harry, eyes wide, could only stare dumbfounded when Lucius suddenly opened his mouth wide and swallowed him down deep. Harry knew he was pulling too tight on the man’s silky hair, but couldn’t stop himself, feeling almost paralyzed by the intense wet heat wrapping his length. Lucius was dripping saliva, groaning softly, trying to take him even deeper in while bobbing his head. Harry’s knees felt weak from the very sight, never mind feel. “Fucking beautiful…” he rasped out, not sure how long he could last with Lucius looking like that.

Suddenly Harry couldn’t see at all, a finger pressing against his hole making him jolt, the back of his head slamming into the refrigerator. “Oh fuck… Lucius, please… Please.” Lucius must have known what he needed because that finger was working its way deeper in, twisting through Harry’s tight, clenching muscles, seeking something. All Harry could do was squirm while Lucius plunged in and out of him while also sucking him down. His head thrashed fitfully, fire rushing over his skin, and leaving him feeling crazed and demented.

Lucius gave a particularly strong pull of suction, then engulfed Harry down again, deep into his throat. Harry fought back a scream when that taunting finger found something inside him and touched. His entire body tensed, back arching, Lucius’s hand barely keeping him from choking the man with his spurting cock. Harry moaned loudly, able to feel Lucius’s throat swallow around him, over and over again with each jerk his body made of release.

“God… I can’t believe… Oh hell.” Harry really had nothing proper to say at all, not with Lucius still thrusting his finger inside him a few final times, making sure he drank down every drop of cum he might still have inside. The man was amazing… Freaking amazing.

Lucius slowly pulled away, licking his red lips, cheeks flushed with arousal, normally sharp eyes a hazy pale blue. Harry stared down at him in awe, his hands gently soothing over Lucius’s cheeks, brushing bristle and silky strands of bright hair. God, he had liked that… He had liked that, and Lucius had known he would… Had touched him in a way that—Harry closed his eyes, his body shivering.

He had liked it, a lot. And he wanted to know what more would feel like.

“Harry, you are delicious… fresh and wild… The things you do to me.” Lucius pressed the side of his head against Harry’s stomach, eyes closing slowly. “The things I want to do to you.” His voice was a dark, deep purr, hoarse and strained, and absolutely devastating to Harry’s senses.

Harry swallowed hard, slowly sinking down so that he was sitting before the kneeling man. “What do you want to do to me?”

Lucius smirked, reaching down to find the band to Harry’s pajama pants and pull them up the boy’s legs and over his narrow hips. “Everything. Every sinful thing one can do with a young man as beautiful as you.” He found the green shirt, helping to fold Harry’s shaking arms into the sleeves. He then began to button him up, leaving the top two open to peek flesh. “Now come on. Off to your room.”

Confused, Harry made a more than obvious stare at the tent in Lucius’s pants. “I thought you wanted to do things to me?” Harry was only a little nervous at the idea of what those things might be, hand reaching out to tentatively brush across the hard flesh hidden beneath the man’s slacks. Lucius had yet to do anything to him that hurt or frightened him, and even that… Even doing that with the man would probably be nice.

“I do,” Lucius said a little breathlessly, eyes widening as he pushed his straining cock against Harry’s hand for a moment. “But we’ve run out of time.”

As if to prove his point, Draco cursed outside the door, muttering about boxes.

“Crap,” Harry hissed, scrambling to his feet and looking around in dismay. The kitchen was a disaster, boxes of tea all over the floor joined with silverware, paper bags, and Harry’s mug, which had been placed out of the way by the sink but still managed to be knocked over. The puddle had reached the potholders, turning everything a soggy brown. Not to mention the kitchen table was severely lopsided, one placemat still managing to hang on the surface but nothing else. The broken leg had splintered off, the fallen piece dejected and crooked on the floor.

Maybe Harry did destroy the house a lot.

Lucius had gotten to his feet and was reaching for a towel to clean up the spilled tea when Draco stumbled in bleary eyed. He walked past the two of them and straight to the coffee maker, accidentally kicking the mug on the floor across into the wall. He began pulling out canisters and whatever magic was needed to brew a cup of coffee, all of it foreign to Harry since he had never bothered to learn.

“He’s like the living dead in the morning,” Lucius commented dryly. He gave his son an amused look and then made a shooing motion at Harry.

Harry felt very bad for leaving Lucius with such a mess to clean on his own, but he also didn’t want to get caught by an angry Draco once the boy finally woke up. He exited swiftly, but not before Lucius followed, kissed him hard against the hallway wall a final heated time, and let him escape on wobbling knees.

SCENE #Fantasy interrupted

Draco was the one to answer the door, waiting for Harry at the foot of the stairs while his friend found the Frisbee he had insisted on showing off. It was right after lunch, Lucius joining for a few moments to steal all the potato chips with a taunting look towards Harry that had made Draco shake his head and bite his cheek to stop from smiling. His father seemed more like himself, if not much more relaxed than Draco had seen him in a long while. He didn’t bother asking why, just glad Lucius didn’t seem to be going the way of Narcissa at the moment.

“Sir?” Draco blinked, staring up in confusion. The light was bright outside, backlighting Albus Dumbledore and making it difficult to see his headmaster’s expression. “Is this about school?”

“Good afternoon, Draco. I was hoping to speak with your father.” If Dumbledore was twinkling, Draco couldn’t tell. Feeling nervous, he stepped back, welcoming the older man in. He was in full robes, ignoring the summer heat for whatever formalities Dumbledore felt must be needed when speaking with Lucius. Draco’s unease grew and he turned, spotting his father down the hall.

Lucius greeted Dumbledore politely, but Draco could see that he was also confused as to what the headmaster was doing there. “Albus, we weren’t expecting you. Is this concerning the upcoming year for Draco?”

Dumbledore held his hand up. “This is something of importance, Lucius. It took some time, but I was able to trace your magical signature. Is he well? Unharmed? I must see him.”

Draco and Lucius exchanged looks. Harry had said he had owled Dumbledore. It must have been another one of those tricky little lies that Harry had twisted in his mind just right to get past them.

“He’s coming down soon,” Draco said. “Just looking for something.”

“Can I offer you anything, Albus? Drink? Chair? The weather is sweltering and you look as though you’ve been in the sun awhile.”

“Thank you, no. There can be no delay. Time is—There he is.” Piercing blue eyes lit at the top of the stairs. Lucius and Draco both turned. Harry was oblivious, staring at a round plastic disk in his hand, flipping it lightly on his fingertips while he descended the staircase. Only to stop cold, head snapping up when he caught sight of Dumbledore in the hall.

Draco inhaled sharply, watching as Harry took a step back as if considering to flee. What had he done? Some prank gone wrong?

“S-Sir,” Harry croaked out, refusing to cross the distance to the group. “He threw me out.”

“I’ve spoken with your Aunt. You are still family to her. It is still your home.”

Harry shook his head weakly, his shoulders slumping forward. “It’s not… Not ever.”

Dumbledore stood taller, reaching his hand out. “Come now, Harry. It’s time to get you back to the Dursleys.”

SCENE #Harry’s abrupt goodbye

“Albus, I must have misheard you.” Lucius stepped between Harry and Dumbledore, voice unnaturally calm. “You can’t possibly be considering sending him back to those muggles. They threw him out in the middle of the night. Abandon him on the side of the road like a bag of trash with little more than rags on his back.”

Dumbledore ignored Lucius, his gaze fixed on Harry. “You know what will happen if you leave those wards. They need to recharge. There is no other place that can protect you from the Dark Lord.”

Harry felt frozen, numbing bursts of fear sucking him down, darkness closing in and tightening his stomach until he thought he might throw up. He had to go back to the wards. He had to be around Aunt Petunia so the blood wards would renew and keep Voldemort from breaking down the door. No one had seen the Dark Lord in years, had assumed him dead forever. Except Dumbledore, that was. He had set up protections for Harry to make sure he would be safe from the crazed wizard and his followers that had tried to kill the boy so many years ago. What his headmaster didn’t understand was that Harry had yet to be harmed by a wizard, only by a muggle. One muggle. The one living at Privet Drive.

“The Dark Lord? Albus, you’re out of your mind.”

Dumbledore finally turned from Harry. “Am I, Lucius? You, of all people, should know better than to underestimate him.” Harry was taut with fear but he fought it down. Maybe there was still hope? Maybe Lucius could convince the man to let him stay?

Nostrils flaring, Lucius glanced at Harry, his expression unreadable. Lucius began unbuttoning his dress shirt, pulling the material away from his t-shirt with a crisp rustle. His shoulder was bandaged, but that was not where he directed Dumbledore to look. Instead, the blond turned the inside of his arm outwards and held the muscle there to reveal an almost completely faded tattoo. “I would know, Albus. It would be impossible for me not to know if Riddle had returned.”

Harry stepped forward hesitantly, wanting to see the dark mark. Lucius shifted at his approach, holding his arm out to Harry, his expression blank. It was very faded, almost as pale as Lucius’s skin, like a dark bruise that refused to fully heal. Harry touched it hesitantly, wondering somehow if it would burn. But it was just a tattoo, old and without magic anymore.

“That it exists at all is reason to be cautious,” Dumbledore said sternly. “You represent the demented number of men and women that would see Harry dead, just because You-Know-Who failed.”

Lucius stiffened, Draco gaping like he had been struck. Harry met Lucius’s gaze, his fingers slowly curling from the man’s warm skin. Face still otherwise a mask, Lucius raised an eyebrow. Harry nearly burst out laughing.

“It’s okay, Sir. Lucius doesn’t think I have enough fashion sense for murdering.”

Harrumphing, Dumbledore combed fingers through his beard. “You have been too long from the house. The wards are weakened and will not sustain the school year. We must keep them strong as long as possible.”

Draco, still angry at his father being accused of wanting to harm Harry when everyone knew his mother was the mad one, refused to be silent any longer. “So Harry is supposed to live there after he’s done with school? Like, for the rest of his life?”

Dumbledore nodded. “I see your point, but while he has no protection away from Hogwarts, he must have something. Nothing is stronger than those wards. That home is a complete safe house from Voldemort, and will continue to be as long as Harry is welcome there.”

“But he’s not welcome! Don’t you understand what that man does—!”

“Don’t,” Harry snapped, stepping away and glaring at his friend. “There’s no point.”

“Harry, he’ll have to let you stay if he knows,” Draco pleaded quietly, his eyes frantic and slightly watery. “You can’t go back there. You can’t.”

Harry shook his head even as Lucius placed a hand on his shoulder. “Albus, you are running from ghosts. The boy is old enough to make his own decisions.”

“Actually, I’m not,” Harry said flatly, meeting Dumbledore’s heavy gaze. “My Aunt has legal guardianship over me until I turn eighteen.”

“Still,” Draco insisted. “Still, you can’t be expected to go back to a place where you’re hurt like that. Just tell him, and he’ll—”

“He already knows!” Harry hissed. He had told Dumbledore last year. Had written and begged the man to let him come to school early—Anything, just so long as he didn’t have to stay with Vernon. Harry had never gotten a reply. Dumbledore had completely ignored him, even when he returned to school. That was when Harry realized he had to deal with everything on his own. That he had to endure in silence because no one fucking cared.

“You should collect your things,” Dumbledore said but Harry shook his head.

“I don’t want any of my things there with them. Draco, will you take care of Hedwig? Just throw everything else in my trunk and I’ll grab it on the train.”

Draco was gaping at him, very much at a loss of what to do. “Why didn’t you tell me? You always tell me everything.”

Harry shrugged, purposely ignoring Lucius’s searing gaze as well. It had hurt too much and he hadn’t wanted it to be real. Harry didn’t tell many of those things to Draco because speaking them aloud only made everything so much worse. “What good would it have done? It was bad enough I bothered you as long as I did. Sorry for that—Sorry, Lucius.” Harry backed away, hand reaching behind him for the door. There would be no date that night. Probably none ever. It wasn’t like Lucius would wait around for someone like him.

“Wait. This is ridiculous,” Lucius spoke up, his voice full of barely restrained anger. “Albus, you cannot knowingly send him into danger because you want to feed your obsession over a wizard long gone. The muggles gave the boy up and we took him in. No harm will come to him here. Certainly the same cannot be said of that place.”

“If it were that simple, Lucius, I would not be here,” Dumbledore said, sounding almost tired, but still full of conviction. “She is his guardian, and he must stay with her. There are only a few more weeks left. Heaven help if the boy has to stay extra, just to make up for his absence already.”

Harry paled at that, Lucius seeing and stiffening. Before the man could say something else, Harry held his hand up, waving slightly. “I’ll see you at the train station, right? Both of you. There’s nothing to worry about, so… yeah. Just a few weeks.” Harry slipped the door open and escaped out into the burning sun before the two Malfoys could think to follow him.

He could hear them arguing with Dumbledore, trying to make the wizard see reason. Harry knew better. The possibility of Voldemort had always taken precedence over the reality of his situation. Harry sometimes wondered if Dumbledore wasn’t disappointed that Voldemort hadn’t returned and tried to kill him. Maybe it would have justified each year of leaving him with the Dursleys.

Wizards just couldn’t see that muggles could do damage, even when it was right in front of their noses. Harry knew muggles and wizards were all the same, just people. Some people used power responsibly. Some people used it to hurt others. Vernon never needed magic. He was larger, stronger and owned the house, the food and the clothes Harry needed. That was all the power someone needed over another to hurt them.

“Harry, don’t go with him! Don’t go back there!” Draco had run around the house while Dumbledore and his father argued, pulling at Harry’s arm as if to whisk him away. “We can run. Father will understand. He might even help once he realizes what we’ve done.”

“You’ll only get in trouble,” Harry whispered, staring at the front door of the manor, his mind racing. Could he run away? He had been considering living on his own when afraid he had worn out his welcome at the manor. Maybe he could run and just… What?

“Where would we even go? Dumbledore would find us eventually. He was able to trace your father’s magic all the way from the Dursleys,” Harry reminded Draco with a sigh.

“Who cares? It’s a huge world, and you’ve got plenty of money.”

“Not muggle money, though. Everyone knows me in the wizarding world. Once word gets out that Dumbledore is looking for me…” Harry trailed off, biting his lip. “I’d never be allowed back in school. I’d miss my last year. He might expel you too, for helping me.”

“Fuck it!” Draco snapped, his eyes flashing angrily as he pulled more persistent on Harry’s arm. “We’ll make up the NEWTs—Hell, Father might be able to get us in somewhere else. Or a personal tutor. You have options, Harry. He’s not the damn boss of you.”

But that was where Draco was wrong. Dumbledore was the boss of him. He had been from the very beginning, when the headmaster had dangled a new life in front of him with the contingency that Harry would be the Golden Boy he was expected to be. Harry owed Dumbledore too much even if what the man was doing now was terrible. Dumbledore had the right intentions, Harry was fairly certain. It was just the execution that was all messed up.

He carefully untangled his arm from his friend’s grasp. “Draco, I couldn’t bear if I messed up your future over something like this. Or Lucius’s. Going against Dumbledore will only get you both hurt and your family has been through enough already. Considering your dad’s an ex-Death Eater, I think we’re both lucky Dumbledore didn’t come in here hexing. It’s only a couple of weeks.”

Draco growled, clutching his fists at his side. “That was when he hurt you the most last summer,” he hissed lowly. “That was when I healed you on the damn train, and had to find you fucking food, you were that dizzy, and made sure you got your trunk because you couldn’t lift your bloody arms.”

Harry stepped back but Draco grabbed both his hands, eyes pleading for him to listen to reason. “He threw you out. What the hell is going to happen when you walk back in!”

“Just stop,” Harry whispered hollowly. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m a wizard and I’ll be fine.” The door slammed open, Draco and Harry jumping at the noise. Dumbledore walked out stiffly but it was Lucius, looking like fury incarnate, that had opened the door. Harry had never seen Lucius so angry, not even when bitching about messes in the house and him nearly sleeping to death.

“Harry, it’s time to go,” Dumbledore said, holding up a portkey.

Draco looked near tears again and Harry felt sorry for his friend. “Harry, I’ll write. You should take the owl, so you can get messages out—Damn it! Don’t do this. Please.”

Harry smiled halfheartedly for Draco’s benefit, taking a step back. “I’ll see you soon. It’ll be a breeze, that’s how fast time will fly. Say hi to Blaise and Pansy for me, ‘kay?”

“Potter, I’ll be by to check up on you,” Lucius practically boomed from the top of the stairs, anger radiating off of him in waves.

Harry pursed his lips, his heart beating wildly once caught in that searing gaze. He wanted to run to Lucius. Let the man tell Dumbledore to fuck off. They could all go somewhere far away and never care about any of this. But that was a child’s dream and Harry had to face reality. “You shouldn’t visit. If you come around, it will just make him angrier. Same with letters. He doesn’t like reminders… Don’t make it worse.”

Harry didn’t say goodbye. He reached out and touched the portkey, letting the illusion of safety jerk away in a whirl of color and plummet of stomach.

SCENE #The monster at Privet Drive

Aunt Petunia was afraid. Harry noticed it the moment she opened the door, Dumbledore ushering Harry into 4 Privet Drive before she could think to shut it. The thing was, she wasn’t afraid of Harry or Dumbledore, so much as the presence of the man currently missing.

The house on Privet Drive felt so much smaller and darker than the last time he had been there. It had only been weeks, but the manor had done something to him. Everything seemed so ugly in the cramped space, especially the people.

Dudley was watching TV even though it was the middle of the day, turning his head to glare at Harry with beady eyes hidden within rolls of fat. The boy had gotten even larger, as if the meager scraps Harry had used to eat had somehow fueled Dudley to greater grotesque girths and rolls. His fingers were sausages now, of an almost purple color, and Harry wondered if the boy might be at risk of a heart attack.

Dumbledore and Petunia had a terse conversation where the headmaster promised Harry would behave himself and keep from using magic at all times. Harry tucked his wand into the inside band of his new jeans, knowing if Vernon were to ever find it, the man would destroy it. Ignoring Dudley’s sneer, he walked upstairs to see what had happened to the second bedroom.

It was full of Dudley’s things again. Not even in order, just full to the brim with toys, electronics and boxes of Dudley’s winter attire and gym equipment. Harry’s room had barely been larger than a closet—although bigger than a cupboard—and it was now being used as a closet. Harry heard Dudley come up the stairs. He couldn’t help but notice with the way the boy was wheezing, the stairs creaking warnings under his heavy weight.

“Hey, ya freak. Don’t think you’re getting my room back.” Dudley smelled of Slim Jims and Fritos, and something sour with a sickly sweet undertone like rotting teeth and soda. “Just wait till dad comes home. He’s going to fucking flip when he finds out.”

Harry turned to face Dudley, glaring up. Anxiety was twisting in the pit of his stomach. “What do you mean? Doesn’t he know I’m back?”

“Do you think you’d be in the fucking door? He’d have been on the steps with a shot gun.” Sneering, Dudley went to punch Harry in the arm, only to stop, inches away, uncertainty flickering on his too wide face. “Don’t touch my things, you shit eating freak.”

Harry stepped away, Dudley pushing into the small cluttered room and sitting his bulk in the middle like a territorial, blob shaped dog. For all Harry knew, the boy would start pissing on everything just to mark his space. Harry wouldn’t put it past his crude cousin. He walked back to the kitchen but Dumbledore had already left without saying goodbye. Petunia was hunched, grabbing the back of a kitchen chair as if holding it to keep from falling. She snapped upright when she caught sight of Harry, her eyes narrowing in on him.

“You shouldn’t have come back!” She hissed viciously, knuckles turning white. “Disrupting everything again. He had the priests over—It was finally getting quiet! You’ve ruined everything.”

Harry glared, trying not to flinch at the unfair words. “I didn’t want to come back. You’re the one that agreed. You should have told Dumbledore no.”

“What, and have him kill me stone dead? Do you think we’re allowed to say no to creatures like them? Like you?” Her eyes tore into Harry and he took a step back. “Anyone that is touched by that evilness ends up dead or ruined. Even my own sister. I will do what I can to keep my family safe even if it means taking you in. You will leave for school and never come back here again, boy. Never.”

Harry didn’t want to come back. He didn’t want to be there now. “Why haven’t you told Vernon yet?”

“Because I don’t know how,” Petunia snapped, releasing the chair to have it clatter against the floor. She had been holding it so tightly she had lifted it.

“Well, you better figure it out. Him walking in here with me sitting at the dinner table is not going to work.” Harry wished it was anger compelling him then, but it was the cold pit of terror ever growing in his stomach. He could feel his breath threatening to slip away and leave him gasping. He held control of himself, knowing it would do no good to panic now. He was in the middle of it and had to deal moment to moment if he was going to make it through.

“It’s Saturday,” Petunia said grimly, her eyes glancing once to Harry and then away. She went to the stove, arranging items idly, her hands in constant motion to hide the shaking.

Harry gaped. He had forgotten. He hadn’t had to worry about the days of the week for a month. Had been so blown over by suddenly being torn from the beautiful fantasy of Malfoy Manor and dumped into the horrors of the Privet Drive so abruptly, he had forgotten how things worked. Harry had woken up without a bed again, without clothing, or food, or a space of his own. On a fucking Saturday.

“Maybe he won’t come home,” Harry whispered, wrapping his arms around his body.

Petunia shook her head sharply, sponging down the counter top with brisk, cutting movements. “He doesn’t know you’re here and I can’t reach him on the cell. He’ll be home. He’ll be drunk.”

Hissing under his breath, Harry stepped around her, heading out the kitchen door into the backyard. He never should have come back here. Never should have listened to Dumbledore. But what choice did he have? Really? He was underage. Wasn’t even allowed to use magic outside of school or without the supervision of a wizarding household. Harry had no rights for another year and Dumbledore had been happy to exploit it.

Maybe Lucius would come anyways? Maybe he would ignore his very reasonable request to stay away and come and save him before everything went to shit? Harry shook his head even as the thought hit him, immediately dismissing it. He was such a child. Such a weak, damn child waiting for someone to fix it all for him. God—He wanted someone to fix it!

It was easier, still in the shadow of the manor, to tell Draco he didn’t need help. Harry had felt stronger there, protected by magic he was allowed to use and the support of two amazing men. Harry had felt like a real person there, allowed to speak his mind and for the worst receive an annoying snark back. God help him, he had thought maybe he had even felt love there, as maddening a delusion as that must have been. Because he was not to be loved. The Dursleys reminded him of that every day.

Here, Harry was not a full person. He lost his voice in the house on Privet Drive. He lost his power. He lost his rights to exist as he was made to be, angry voices insisting he be something else. And whatever it was they wanted, Harry was never even allowed to be that either. He had tried to twist and change into whatever it was they wanted, and still, he was a freak to them.

Harry sat in the yard until it got dark and then he continued to sit. Aunt Petunia didn’t offer him dinner, and he wouldn’t have wanted it anyways. His stomach was in knots. His breath kept slipping, lungs giving random spasms while he fought to keep the panic at bay. The later it got, the more drink Vernon had a chance to get down. The darker it was, the more money Vernon would piss away, Petunia counting the hours in twenties and fifties, the paycheck for the week. That too was Harry’s fault. Vernon never would have turned to booze if the freak had never graced his doorstep all those years ago.

Harry could hear the television, Dudley watching something violent and loud and laughing in discord. Harry began to pace, unable to sit still any longer. He shouldn’t have come here. Nothing could be worse than this. His lungs gave another gasping squeeze and he whimpered and prayed Vernon would not return.

Of course, he did. Eleven thirty, dull and stumbling up the drive. The taxi barely glowed as it slipped away with a hum. Harry froze beneath the shadow of the maple tree hanging over from the neighbor’s yard. He listened. He waited.

Harry counted his breaths and told himself to stay calm.

SCENE #Breath lost

He lost his breath before Vernon even touched him. Dudley was laughing from the couch, no longer at the television but at the show of Harry gasping for air while Vernon lumbered down the hall and threw him into the living room. Harry blinked up dizzily from the floor, black spots floating and fuzzing his already blurred vision, his glasses lost somewhere. Dudley sneered down, poking a fat finger painfully into Harry’s chest.

“Fucking told ya, freak.” Beady eyes glinting in the dim light, Dudley grimaced down and ran his thumb across his bloated throat menacingly. Harry would have rolled his eyes at the theatrics but was too busy trying to breathe.

“Vernon, please calm down. It’s only for a few weeks. I was assured this was the last—”

“No! I want him OUT OF HERE!” Vernon roared, his voice thickly slurred and dripping spittle and hate. “I kicked him out—I WARNED HIM what would happen if he came back here! That fucking freak, ruining everything. Ruining good people and good families and just…”

Harry tried to push himself off the ground, chest heaving painfully. Vernon was getting into his ‘Harry was the devil’ tirade. It was the worst one and he needed to get the fuck out if he wanted to ever breathe again. He grabbed at the couch weakly, his body swaying. Vernon turned from where he was arguing with Petunia, red face snarling purple once he caught sight of the boy.

“What did I fucking tell you? You were never to come back here! NEVER! Or I’d make you suffer!” He pushed Harry back, thick, ham-sized hands bright red as they slammed into the boy’s chest and forced what little air he had managed to get into his lungs out. Harry’s hand clawed at the couch but only wretched his fingers painfully as he went flying back, tripping over the ledge by the fireplace and smashing his head against the wall.

Shit… He could barely see… Darkness was encroaching on his vision, either from the fall or lack of oxygen. He couldn’t tell. What was wrong with him? Had the softness of Malfoy Manor taken away his ability to endure what he had always endured before? Wouldn’t resting have made him more resistant and not just so pathetically weak? Harry’s lungs burned for air and he grabbed at his throat, trying with all his might to fight the strange haze and breathe.

“Rotting us away until there was nothing good left—YOU DID THIS, BOY! You SICK, twisted hell-spawn, RUINING everything from the inside out! You ruined us! RUINED!” Vernon was stumbling, the overwhelming smell of beer, sweat, and piss abating for a moment.

“D-dad, what are you doing with that?”

Harry struggled to sit up from his sideways sprawl on the brick wall, eyes seeking out Dudley’s frightened face. He could barely find him feet away, everything caustic bright and shadows in the blue light flashing from the television.

Petunia was backlit in the kitchen entrance, turned away. “Vernon, please. Please, not in front of our son.”

Harry’s lungs had stopped fighting for air, his body now just shaking as everything grew darker and more fuzzy. He was going to suffocate to death. Whatever it was that Vernon had holding in his fist was not going to kill him. His fucking panic attack was.

Harry smiled weakly, head dropping forward against his shuddering chest. He felt like he was sparking, each gasp of broken breath a jolt of sputtering electricity. What had Lucius called it…? A message his body was trying to send his brain… He was afraid. That was the fucking message. What other fucking message was there to say?

Harry could barely hear them now, his Uncle sounding far away. “You’re not right… You’re not right and you need to be stopped… For my family, you see… Set you right…”

“Vernon, stop!”

Harry could see it now, swinging at the man’s hip as he approached. A frying pan. Like Harry had woken up in a poorly lit cartoon, and his face would leave an imprint and he’d bounce away. Maybe he would? He was a wizard, after all.

Harry sparked again, a sudden breath hiccuping through him. The darkness faded for a small instant and again he wondered what his body was trying to tell him.

Vernon saw the spark, his face twisting in a rage. “DON’T DO THAT! Don’t bring that fucking sickness in my house!”

Harry had no idea what he was doing but Vernon seemed afraid to test out his frying pan, so it must be good. Another bigger spark, green this time, and the darkness cleared again, Harry almost getting a half of breath in. He wheezed, his chest contracting and pushing air out as quickly as it had come. He tried to raise himself to his feet, hoping if Vernon would just be scared of him a little longer he might make it out the door.

It was the wrong action, Vernon perceiving Harry moving to be more dangerous than sitting. Bellowing in rage, Vernon raised the fist clutching the frying pan and swung it down as hard as he could. All Harry could do was spark back in defense.

SCENE #Draco frets

“I don’t care! We can’t just leave him there!” Draco had stopped his silent crying minutes ago, bursting free of the room Harry had been sleeping in to seek his father out and argue all over again.

Lucius let him, knowing it was all his son had at the moment.

“His uncle hurt him. Bad! Things that didn’t scar. Things that broke inside and made it so Harry couldn’t fucking walk straight afterwards. Even now, he keeps knocking into shit, misjudging things around him. It’s because of that terrible man!”

Sitting in his study, Lucius poured two small drinks, pushing one over to Draco when the boy ran out of steam for a moment and looked about ready to cry again. Draco took the glass with trembling hands, sipping slowly and screwing his face up from the taste. “You didn’t see him last year, Father. Didn’t see him on the train, fucking broken. He wouldn’t tell me what happened. Said it was an accident—And he refused to go to the medi witch. Like it had been something shameful, instead of just a terrible act of violence inflicted upon him. That man made him think he deserved it, and that’s why he never fought back.”

Draco gulped the rest of his drink in one swallow, leaving the glass on the desk. “What’s going to happen to him? He has no one there… No one cares about him there.”

“I do not know.”

“He has no right!” Draco suddenly shouted, fist slamming down on the desk. “Fucking Dumbledore—That he knew! Fucking knew! And still made Harry go back. He’s not Harry’s guardian. He’s fucking nobody. I don’t know why Harry listens to him. He lets that man manipulate him.”

Lucius nodded in agreement. “Albus is the closest thing to a father that boy has. Harry wants the man to be proud of him even if it’s just by staying quiet about how he was hurt.”

“It’s wrong. Bloody wrong and I want to do something!” The tears again, just glinting at the edge of the boy’s eyes. Draco had not been one for crying, not for years now. It had always confused Lucius to see young people cry, but then, he had created an environment where his son would not be punished for such displays.

“He asked us to stay away,” Lucius reminded stiffly, his heart still clenching at the memory.

“That’s because he doesn’t want us hurt!” Draco snarled, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand furiously. “That’s how he always fucking is—He’ll take every goddamn pain in the world, just as long as no one else has to ever feel bad. He’s a fucking martyr, through and through, the idiot.”

It made Harry feel stronger to protect people when he was so helpless. Lucius knew because he had been the same way. Then he had learned how strong it felt to hurt people when feeling helpless, and that had been even better.

“Please, Father. Please fix this,” Draco whispered, eyes large and red rimmed. “You always fix everything. Use all that power and influence and fix this.”

Lucius considered his options idly, having already gone down this road a million times in his head. “I have no leverage against Albus except the situation at hand. Harry would never turn on him, Draco. He would never tell an inquiry that his mentor left him in such danger. He didn’t even tell you. It would mean dozens of aurors and wizards walking through that house, upsetting his uncle for hours on end. And then Harry would still be forced to stay.”

“Then we take him away! We can run away!”

Lucius shook his head. “Remember who he is. No one might think twice about the boy-who-lived ending up with a few bruises, but when he doesn’t show up for school because of an ex-Death Eater—And Albus will surely let that slip. We will be hunted down. Our name ruined. Our assets frozen.”

“I don’t care! Just kill them, Father!” Draco shouted, both hands now slamming on Lucius’s desk.

Lucius finally reached for his drink, swallowing it down with a quick motion. If he was shocked that his son had so little value for life, it was only because he knew how much Draco cared for his friend.

“Dumbledore knows that I’ve been there. The wards might actually work in a way to keep me out. And then what? Harry still can’t run. Eventually someone will notice that his relatives aren’t showing up for work and the authorities will be called. Harry might be arrested by the muggles. Incarcerated.”

Draco made a whining noise in the back of throat, frustration and anxiety warring on his face. “You’re doing this on purpose!”

“Draco…”

“No! He never meant anything to you!” Draco hissed vindictively, pulling away before Lucius’s hand could reach his wrist. “You just wanted to fuck him. And now that you’ve had your fill, you’re going to leave him to be beaten by those terrible monsters! If you cared about him at all—”

“I do care,” Lucius said softly.

Draco shook his head, unbelieving. “Then fix it!” He slammed the door as he left, Lucius raising a brow as a picture fell off the mantel from the force.

SCENE #Need demands sacrifice

Lucius sat in his study till dawn, listening to the clock tick while ruminating. He should mind his own bloody business. He had no legal stock in anything to do with Potter. Maybe Sirius, being godfather to the boy. But Black had escaped when Bellatrix had, and Black had not stayed around to tempt the aurors. Even then, the convict’s parental rights would be a question, given he was supposed to be in jail.

Potter had told him to stay away. He didn’t want things to be worse than they already were.

Lucius had told a young man that once, a lifetime ago. He had glared, and spat, and cruelly spurned his lover away after the third and final lashing of his flesh. It was much easier to blame his heart—his weak, pathetic heart—than face his father, a man so powerful Lucius used to tremble just to think of him. There had been a time when he had been grateful to be under the protective arm of Voldemort. There had been power to gain there, knowledge to learn so that he could finally break free of his father permanently. Lucius had gloried in the horrors he had committed because, for once, they were not being inflicted on him.

But Riddle had been even more demented than Lucius’s father. It wasn’t pride and the need to control that had driven Riddle. It had been a sick hurt, worse than anything Lucius had allowed to fester in his own still living heart. While he had finally faced his demons, Riddle had become one, tearing through anyone and thing that reminded him of what had been done to him. He had been pure hate, maddened and desperate for more. And of all the lines Voldemort had crossed, injuring Harry Potter had been the one the apathetic gods had finally struck him down for.

The boy. The maddening, beautiful boy. Alone. Surrounded by those that saw him as nothing more than a monster. Monsters begot monsters. Lucius knew. He had done everything to grow a soul before Draco was born. He had promised to never do what his father had done.

But he was allowing it by the hands of another, lesser man than he. On a boy so beautiful, so pure, the angels must weep at every blow.

Silence was what allowed the Vernon Dursleys of the world the power they had. The uncle was not a strong man, by any means. He had no great wealth. No amazing talent that set him above the rest. He had bred, like most animals did, and worked to provide—From what Lucius had heard that had not been a success. Vernon had been given an amazing gift. A child of unimaginable power with the ability to love had been placed on his doorstep. And Vernon had detested him. He had thrown so much hate upon him, the boy had become quiet and small. And when that wasn’t enough, when still Harry had insisted on existing, the man had raised his fist.

Maybe he would write a letter… Something to the Minister of Magic. Did Fudge know what was happening to his Golden Boy? Fudge hated Dumbledore with a passion. Lucius had no leverage but maybe the Minister did.

Decided, Lucius opened the top drawer to his desk. He froze, eyes catching on something inside. Fingers twitching, he carefully picked up the teabag sitting innocently on the top of his papers. Harry had drawn a little cartoon of a tooth… or maybe a blob. The boy was a terrible artist. Lucius sighed deeply, flicking the paper tag over, again and again, the string curling tighter and tighter in mirror to his nerves.

Need was a terrible feeling. While want could be pursued, and desire would always find its way, need… need was merciless. Need demanded sacrifice, if not in action, than in spirit. When you thought you had given all it would ask—as Lucius had hoped while sitting in his study, giving up the pretty young man that would only bring chaos to his life—that was when need demanded again. Lucius would not survive this need. It was too deep, too integral, too reminiscent of his past and revealing of just how stagnant his current existence was. If he did not give in to this need, he would fade away, dull and dusty, without anything left inside.

Harry needed someone. Someone powerful. Compassionate. Brave. Lucius was a coward. He had always done everything in his power to preserve himself. Even his acts of courage had been to stay alive, stay whole.

It was good that Lucius needed so deeply. He knew he would not be able to sacrifice otherwise.

He stood abruptly, going to the hallway to pull out his black cloak from the closet. Draco was in the kitchen, hunched over the repaired table, holding something in his hand. It was Lucius’s mask. Huffing in annoyance, he plucked it from the boy’s grasp. “This is not a toy. Nothing you should ever wear.”

“It wasn’t for me,” Draco muttered, glancing up at his father, his eyes still rimmed in red.

Lucius sighed, banishing the skull away. “This is not something one does in the shadows. It is not a crime to help him. But I will be punished for it still.”

“But you are going to help?” Draco asked with a sniff, sitting up straighter.

Lucius nodded once, his eyes moving over the kitchen idly. It was strange to be up so early without Harry there, terrible colors and sipping tea. He had not realized how familiar it had become until fearing it would be gone forever.

“Your mother is ill, Draco. She didn’t want me to tell you until you had finished school. But now…” Lucius looked down at his son, Draco blinking back in surprise. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s still very much hateful when it comes to the classes, and I fear she has been out hurting people. But she left because she did not want you to watch her die. She loves you very much. As much as she is capable of, with her being so confused.”

Draco licked his lips, studying his hands quietly. He thought maybe the boy wanted to say something, but Draco never did, and Lucius eventually left.

Narcissa had been allowed her insanity. She had paid her dues as society had demanded of her. She had married a wealthy, albeit gay, man, produced an heir, and had even contributed to the strengthening of her community in the only way she had been taught. By torturing muggles. She had stayed with her gay husband, raising their son and accepted Lucius’s new, if be it backwards, desire to allow muggles within their society as long as the right precautions were placed. And then she had been diagnosed with cancer and had decided it was time to take her life for herself. Lucius had not fought her once.

Lucius did not desire to be insane. But he did need one impossible thing. Hopefully, he would be allowed it.

SCENE #The still house

Lucius camped outside the Dursleys around seven a.m. Sunday morning, waiting for the family to go to church before approaching and checking on Harry. It wasn’t until ten that he started to suspect that something was wrong, dread growing in terrible weight on his shoulders.

Privet Drive was a strange experiment in ordered lives. It wasn’t one neighbor going out to jog, it was all neighbors. If at eight o’clock you hadn’t watered the flowers in front of the picket fences and around the mailboxes, than you mustn’t have flowers at all. Every family, in every shining car, left at nine forty-five to get to their ten o’clock mass at the parish down the lane.

Petunia Dursley did not join in the joggers passing on the street. There was no child Dursley going out to water the neglected flowers by their mailbox. The man Lucius intended to kill if things did not go his way did not lead his family out the door and into his new car. The curtains were pulled tight on all the windows of 4 Privet Drive and Lucius felt dread.

The house was deathly still compared to the neighbors. Children let out from school for the summer were running around, jumping rope, shrieking as they sprayed each other with squirt guns, and went slamming into their houses demanding first lunch, and then dinner as the hours crawled by. Lucius would not approach the house until the Dursleys were out or darkness had settled thick enough that he would not be noticed.

He wondered if the house was empty. Had the Dursleys up and left in the middle of the night? Dragging an unwilling Harry behind… Or leaving him here, hurt… maybe worse? Maybe dead? The anxiety within grew and Lucius knew he did not approach because of this fear. It was not the light and the muggles surrounding him. It was the fear of what he would find if he dared to enter the house.

Lucius growled inwardly, shaking his head at the absurd notion. Harry was a powerful young man. He might be weak in knowledge and confidence, but surely no muggle could get the better of him. The boy had survived Voldemort. Lucius was just being paranoid, having grown frightened by Draco’s stories and reminded of his own past. Vernon was a muggle, nothing more. Harry was so much more.

The streetlights came on but still Lucius hesitated. Why wasn’t anyone moving? The neighbors bustled in their houses, dinner dishes being washed, soft laughing chatter coming out the windows while televisions flashed and radios hummed. But number four was still. Silent. Nothing moving, no curtain twitch, no dinner dish. Nothing.

Around ten p.m. a light went on. It was upstairs at the back of the house. The bathroom, the curtains drawn but lacy enough for light to be seen. Lucius took a deep breath, counting slowly. The light went out. The house went still.

Lucius unfurled from his crouch, his legs stiff, muscles protesting. He let the blood return to his limbs, listening, alert. Most of the neighbors had slipped away to bed, only a few televisions left to hum. Lucius walked up the front walk, keeping to the shadows, his wand in hand. He stood at the door, listening for sounds of activity inside. Nothing. Hesitating a long, frozen moment, he pressed the doorbell.

SCENE #Lost dream

When Harry had left he had been wearing new clothes, possibly for the first time ever. His jeans had been a dark navy blue, fitting well with enough room in his legs that he didn’t feel uncomfortable. His shirt had been a soothing tan color t-shirt, a swirling design of skulls and artistic flourishes teenagers were drawn to in the current style. His socks were even new along with the sneakers, black and white puma’s. It had only been a day but Harry had managed to destroy them.

There weren’t many holes, but there was one large tear, slicing down the front of Harry’s chest as if someone had grabbed him there and pulled too hard. The blood was the worst of it, splatters on the back of his neck and all over his jeans, the white of his shoes now a black rust. Lucius stood a good five minutes staring at those jeans. Harry, broken glasses taped and situated on his face, leaned on the door frame heavily and let him.

“I asked you to stay away,” Harry finally whispered, a cut splitting his bottom lip and running down his chin.

“I tried. Are you okay?” Lucius reached for his face but Harry jerked away the same time as something flared across the door. It was the wards, repelling non-permitted visitors away.

Harry sighed, staring where the ripple had occurred. “You wouldn’t have been able to help… What a fucking sick joke.” Harry looked behind him, revealing the back of his head matted with blood. “I have to go.”

“No, you don’t.” Lucius said quickly. “Come with me. Right now.”

Harry glanced back, his eyes not glowing the way they used to when in the manor. “I’m tired. I’ve been… cleaning,” he said with a curl of his upper lip. “I just want to sleep.”

Lucius fell silent, afraid what that might mean. There was no way the boy had sleeping charms in that muggle house. “You promised…”

It took Harry a moment to understand, but he only shrugged once he did. “Was any of that even real? It had felt so… perfect. Like a dream.”

“I burned all your clothes and you managed to break your mouth on my pool. You almost killed yourself just trying to take a nap. It was hardly perfect,” Lucius muttered. It had not been some flimsy fantasy. It had been real. It had been their life and Harry needed to come back to it.

Harry slumped. “I’m going to go sleep, Lucius.”

“Let me in.”

“No.”

Harry shut the door in his face, Lucius left standing alone in the dark.

SCENE #Lucius’s escape

Lucius knocked on the back door. It was hours later, dawn threatening. The bathroom light had popped on, then off. When Lucius listened, he could hear the sound of a kettle. Harry took a long time to answer. Lucius almost knocked again but then the door swung open.

Harry did not invite him in, instead holding an empty mug up questioningly. The boy’s eyes were a bit sharper than before, but he was still drawn looking, face too pale, eyes too lifeless. Lucius fished through the pocket of his cloak, holding up his prize and letting it spin by the tag. Harry bit his lip when seeing the familiar teabag but didn’t take it. Instead he walked back into the kitchen and poured water into a mug, which he then handed to Lucius. While Lucius floated the bag into the chipped mug—apparently everything Harry came in contact with became dilapidated—Harry went and poured his own tea, something sharp and foul smelling.

Harry sat, folding himself in the doorway so he was resting his mug on his raised knees. Watching him, Lucius sank to the concrete patio, legs bent Indian style. Their tea steeped in silence, the warm kitchen light bathing them in yellow and turning the shadows inky.

Harry had washed his hands, the black rust no longer staining under his fingernails. His glasses had gained another layer of tape, the edge curling up and wavering whenever the boy blew on his tea. Harry grimaced at every sip he took but did not complain.

“Harry, you don’t—”

“How many people have you killed?” Harry asked, effectively cutting Lucius off.

Lucius exhaled slowly, watching Harry’s eyes skitter over him and then back to his tea. “Twelve… possibly thirteen.” One individual had been hit by so many spells, no one could claim to truly have been the deciding blow.

Harry nodded at the number, resting his cut lip on the side of his mug and breathing the steam in. “Were they all on purpose?”

“I do not consider accidents to be murder, nor does the law,” Lucius said carefully. “I am too controlled to have such accidents.”

“Which one… What’s the worst thing you’ve done? Were you… Was it for Voldemort?” Harry asked haltingly, his eyes again glancing dull green his way.

Lucius had a sip of his tea, the familiar taste doing nothing to change the fact that they were in the middle of some suburban muggle town, dawn peeking on the horizon, and Harry covered in blood and broken inside. “It is difficult to say… There are acts that I did that were certainly terrible in and of themselves to the individuals I inflicted them on. And then there were acts that were that, and also tore the humanity I was trying to preserve into a million shredded pieces. The second type hurt me the most, but were likely not the worst that I had done. The ones that wounded me were things I had done as a Death Eater.”

“Because you did them on purpose?” Harry asked, fingers drifting down to the bloodstains on his jeans, running over the dried splotches that flaked at his touch.

“No. Because only half of me wanted to do them.” Lucius shrugged. “I thought that was reason enough, but the other half, that part that didn’t want to, kept breaking, kept fighting. For some reason, that part eventually won and I stopped.”

Harry flaked more blood and then brushed it brusquely away. “Tell me about the worst one you did. That you wanted to do. All of you. Without hesitation.”

There had been a few, but one always burned the brightest, the angriest, and at the same time sweetest. “My father.”

Harry held his mug in two hands, tilting and staring at the liquid as if debating whether to drink more or spill it on the ground. “Tell me how you killed your father.”

Giving himself a moment, Lucius relaxed into the memory. He smiled faintly, meeting Harry’s curious glance. He had never told anyone this. Rarely spoke of murder at all, except in hushed tones with those that had helped. But this one had been very much secret, never owned to except in his heart. There was something intimate about being able to speak the words. Maybe the demonic glow, still flickering deep, just hidden in Harry’s eyes.

“It happened too fast. I was still very much afraid, you see. Actually, I don’t think I ever stopped being afraid until he was finally dead.” Lucius’s smile grew. “I rushed it. I had planned for months—Years, if I’m really honest about it. All the mental trappings I learned, just to make sure he would never know I aimed to kill him. In some ways, it was all I was those many years. Just the desire for revenge and freedom.”

Harry placed his mug on the kitchen floor, reaching for Lucius’s barely touched tea. To Lucius it was more, the urge to be closer, to let him in a little more. Lucius handed his cup over after another sip, watching the boy’s hands carefully. One was bruised and swollen, the fingers darker than they should be.

“Did you feel bad after?” Harry asked, sighing into the mug and then drinking deep.

“No, not really. Afraid for a moment. That he might get back up and prove just what a fool I was for thinking I could ever be free. Afraid someone might find out and then I’d be locked away in a different prison. Afraid my mother, already dead by his scourge, would somehow haunt me for not making amends,” Lucius mused softly, feeling Harry’s gaze slip over him again. “But I never felt bad about it. And I never felt bad that I didn’t feel bad. I had felt bad over other deaths, many I had done, and far more that I had seen done. But not him.” Lucius smirked again. He had felt alive. Empowered. Free.

“How did you—”

“Killing curse. Short and sweet. Too short… But still, very sweet. There were so many things I wanted to tell that bastard. But I rushed it. Better to rush in and live.” Lucius paused and frowned. He had forgotten that. Had nearly lost Harry because he had forgotten to act with certainty at a time when it was most needed.

“You had said something. About my body trying to tell me something.” Harry struggled to his feet, grabbing the door to keep from falling. Lucius got up slower, just in case Harry fell outside and he could grab him. Steal him away. Keep him from disappearing back into whatever was in that house.

Harry swayed unsteadily, then slipped two fingers down the front of his jeans and wiggled the slender wand loose he had hidden there. He tapped the magical ward over the door and the barrier glowed bright and welcoming.

“Come on, then,” the brunette beckoned, walking further into the kitchen and into the hall. Lucius, glancing briefly outside into the beginning of dawn, hesitantly stepped in and closed the door behind him.

SCENE #What can’t be cleaned

The kitchen was spotless. Harry had cleaned up the shattered glassware and plates of leftovers that had been left for his uncle’s return. He had washed up the fallen food from the floor, cleaned up what Aunt Petunia had left on the stove in her agitation, and then scrubbed the floor and cabinet surfaces multiple times until they no longer had an orange tinge. He watched Lucius from the hallway door, the man’s eyes skimming through, trying to read a story Harry had yet to tell. Maybe a story Lucius had seen before in his own bloodied past.

Harry waited, stepping to the side when Lucius crossed the distance, letting the man into the hall but blocking him from the living room. Harry had cleaned as best he could in there, but without magic he was limited. Lucius sniffed quietly, Harry knowing the air smelled of ozone and bleach.

“It couldn’t be helped,” Harry said after a moment when Lucius turned his piercing gaze to him.

“How so?”

Harry shifted from foot to foot, glancing away again. “I couldn’t be set right.”

Lucius reached for him but Harry flinched back, eyes wide. He didn’t want Lucius to touch him. Didn’t want the man to feel just how wrong he was on the inside. Harry knew now. He knew what his body had been very loudly trying to tell him.

He stepped back into the living room, eyes glancing unseeingly over his relatives as they sat around the broken television. Harry had arranged them the best he could, given the damage. His power had exploded out when Vernon had gone to strike him. The force had torn the defenseless muggles apart, broken and twisted their bones, shredded their clothing, destroyed the furniture. Harry, knocked out from the power, had woken up too late to save anyone. He had cleaned up as best as he could, but there was no question what had happened.

It was too difficult to look at them, so Harry looked at Lucius. The man was probably the most beautiful thing that had ever stepped into that horrible house. He didn’t even look shocked. He didn’t even look disgusted. But Harry knew how well Lucius could hide himself and the truth of his emotions. There would be no kindness from the man again. Not when Lucius finally saw what he was.

Still, Harry had to show him.

“Something inside me didn’t want to be hurt anymore,” Harry said softly, Lucius walking carefully around the swept floors and furniture chunks. The blond looked up when Harry spoke but then went back to his inspection of the broken family. “I was having a panic attack and I kept thinking; what is my body trying to say? And then I figured it out. Really fucking quick.”

He pointed next to Lucius, where Harry had been when it happened. The carpet had pulled up and the floor boards torn apart where he had stood. He had put the frying pan back, the massive dent still in it where it had been thrown away by his magic.

Lucius remained silent, looking at him expectantly. Harry pursed his lips and then raised his shoulders. “My body said to kill them. All of them. And then I’ll never have to worry again.”

“You lost control,” Lucius finally spoke, taking a step around the twisted legs of Petunia Dursley.

“No.” Harry shook his head, turning towards the stairs. “I found my control.”

“Harry, this type of magical outburst doesn’t work that way.”

He paused, glancing back. Lucius had sounded kind. Almost caring. “Maybe for normal people. But believe me, Lucius, I’m a fucking freak.”

Lucius growled, tripping over half a chair in his haste to get to Harry. “You’re not—”

“He used to think I did things on purpose too. Little things to piss him off. Big things to ruin his life. He thought I had come into his home to destroy the goodness in his very world. It was just the way I was. I couldn’t be anything else… It’s just who I am, and no matter how many times I said sorry, it was still him thinking I was trying to hurt him. Well this time… this time it was on purpose. And I’m not sorry. Not for him. Not for him or her either.”

Lucius caught his arm and Harry flinched, trying to pull away. Lucius wouldn’t let him, turning the boy harshly, glaring molten silver down at him. “You are.”

“I’m not!” Harry raised his chin defiantly. “I’m glad they’re dead. Glad I was able to finally stand up for myself. Glad that I didn’t need anyone to—Damn it, stop looking at me like that!”

“You are lying to me, Potter,” Lucius snarled, grabbing Harry around the waist when he tried to break free.

“Fuck you! You don’t know a god fucking damn thing about me!” Harry shouted, pushing harder on Lucius’s shoulders and chest.

“What was the message?” Lucius demanded, grabbing the hand that was about to slam into the bandaged wound on his shoulder.

“I told you—To kill them!”

“You’re lying.” Harry must have been very weak because it took nothing for Lucius to grab the back of his neck and hold him still. His head hurt, especially the back of his skull. Dully, he remembered he had been hurt last night.

“Tell me, Potter. Tell me, and I’ll leave you alone.”

Harry stilled, licking his dry lips. “I told you.”

“No, you didn’t. You told me what you wanted the message to be,” Lucius said with a low growl. “Tell me what it actually was.”

“How do you know that? How can you even know that?” Harry hissed back, again trying to push the man away. Lucius was too strong or he was too weak. The result was the same.

“I know,” Lucius said softly. “Now tell me. Please.”

Harry broke away from the piercing gaze, studying the dim stairway instead. “There was no message. Just… just nothing.”

“There is always a message.”

Harry snapped his gaze back, anger and agony glowing bright in his eyes. “Not for me! Just fear. Just telling me I was afraid. My body was afraid and didn’t want to be anymore!” He glared at Lucius, at the bastard that had managed to make him feel weak and strong at the same time. Even in this. Harry hated it. Hated these feelings burning and tumbling inside.

“Good.” Lucius said after a moment, loosening his unyielding grip on the boy.

“Good?” Harry gaped at him in disbelief. “My body knew I was weak—So pathetic I couldn’t even defend myself from a damn powerless muggle. It had to do it for me. How crazy is that? My body had to do what I refused, and in doing so, killed them all!”

“You will learn control now,” Lucius said, hand coming up to touch the wound on Harry’s lips. Harry stumbled back from the gentleness, shaking his head.

“I’m going to jail. I’m going to sit in this house until Dumbledore shows up, or the neighbors’ smell them rotting and call the cops.” Harry took a step up the stairs. “Get the hell out of here, Lucius. No point me ruining your life too.”

SCENE #Listening within

Harry had taken everything in Dudley’s second bedroom and thrown it in his cousin’s first, piling stuff on the floor. The bed was still small and cramped, more so since Harry kept growing, but it was better than the carpet, or sleeping in the beds of the deceased. Harry lay in a ball, arms around his knees, fighting back the emptiness inside and the sting of tears. A gasping feeling kept rising up his throat. Not panic, but sorrow. He wanted to sleep. Wanted the numbness to settle fully and let him drift away.

But Harry couldn’t sleep. His mind still whirled with what had happened. Vernon. The explosion. The terrible, terrible cleaning. He had to clean. It was wrong to leave Petunia’s spotless home a mess like that. The woman had been obsessed with things being orderly and Harry had ruined it all with one defensive action.

Lucius hadn’t left. Harry could hear him moving around downstairs. Maybe cleaning. Maybe collecting evidence to prove his guilt. Harry had no idea at this point. Why hadn’t Lucius just let him lie? Why had he needed him to tell him he had been so scared? It didn’t make what he did any better. It made it worse. His fear had won and people had died. Harry never had to fear from Vernon again, but he now had a lifetime left to fear himself.

He never should have opened the door. Hope had flared so strong for an instant, seeing Lucius through the curtain out front. Why, he didn’t know, because Lucius couldn’t turn back time. There was no way to erase what he had done. And really, it shouldn’t be erased. Three lives had been snuffed out. Needlessly. Because he hadn’t walked out the backyard and run far away when Petunia had called him in last night. No, he had done as he was told. He had gone in to greet Vernon. And then everyone had died.

Harry glanced up, the floorboards outside the open door squeaking. Lucius stared in at him, again unreadable. As if having an expression would break whatever was left of Harry’s tenuous control. Maybe it would. Maybe a blank Lucius was safer than what he had last met in the manor kitchen, smiling so bright and caring that Harry had panicked.

“It’s time to go.”

Harry couldn’t help but snort. God, Lucius just thought he could walk in here and sweep him away. “I can’t sleep. Cast me asleep so I don’t have to be awake anymore.”

Lucius stepped into the dusty bedroom, kneeling beside Harry’s bed. He smoothed down the ragged bedspread, holding back from actually touching the brunette’s tense form. “Come home with me, Harry.”

Harry’s breath caught. The man couldn’t still want him. Not after all this. Harry didn’t deserve that. He shook his head slowly, another sob clutching at his throat. “I did something bad, Lucius. I don’t get to be around people after that.”

Lucius reached his hand up, Harry cringing slightly. The man waited and then carefully touched Harry’s cheek, fingers spreading and contouring to his flesh. It was warm. Grounding. “Some mistakes are worse than others. You committed an action. But you did not create the situation where the action was demanded of you.”

“I am responsible for my actions,” Harry said tightly, wanting it not to be true. Wanting it to be easy to blame everyone but his terrible self. “I have to be. We all have to be.”

Lucius nodded, his thumb caressing over Harry’s lip. “Yes. But there are also consequences to actions, Harry. What you did was a consequence to the actions of a long line of people that hurt you and ignored your pain. Your uncle’s brutal actions. Your headmaster’s selfish actions. My cowardly actions.”

“You weren’t—”

“I was,” Lucius said evenly. “I didn’t want to upset my life by facing down Dumbledore and bodily keeping you safe with me. And because of that, I left you defenseless. It was very wrong of me and now you are hurting because of it.”

“You’re not responsible for me. I’m not… I’m not anything…” Harry trailed off, hating that this too was true.

“If things had gone another way, you could have died. And even though your uncle and headmaster would have held blame, so too would have I. We are all to blame in this, Harry. Not just you.” Lucius ran his fingers carefully to the back of Harry’s neck, finding the blood that had dried. “I am here because you are everything to me. I know that is difficult for you to hear, never mind understand. But that is how it is, and how it shall remain. Now kindly sit up so that I can heal your head.”

Harry sat up slowly, eyes widening slightly while he bit his lip. “You don’t mean that…” Lucius might like him a little, but there was no way he could mean so much to the man. He ran his eyes over the blond’s face but Lucius’s expression was still shuttered even if his voice held warmth.

“Oh, have you become the great authority on what I mean?” Lucius asked with a raised brow. “You who can’t even get through a day without destroying your clothes?”

Harry blinked, looking down and seeing himself truly for the first time. “Oh… oh crap. Gross. How can you even sit so close right now?”

“Turn your head,” Lucius ordered lightly. Harry did so after a moment, sitting up straighter so that he could turn on the bed. The man’s fingers gently probed at the painful gash on Harry’s skull, the boy hissing softly each time.

Harry closed his eyes, wondering if this was the last time Lucius would ever touch him. The man was very good at lying. Had always been… but… Harry wasn’t sure if Lucius had ever lied to him. Lucius told him stuff, personal stuff, and he listened when he dared to share the same. He made sure that what Harry shared was honest too.

“How does it feel?” Lucius asked somewhere around his ear.

“Er…” Harry blinked his eyes open, glancing to the side where Lucius was peering with eyebrow raised expectantly and expression still blank. “My headache is gone. No more… no more dull, red pain.” He wondered how the man could look so lovely while inside the Dursleys’ ugly, mundane house. It was almost like Lucius brought the manor with him, just around wherever he was. Just enough to feel safe again.

“Good. Now let me see your hand.” Harry was surprised when Lucius reached for his fingers, not realizing until touched that he was in pain and hurting. He watched as Lucius healed him, the darkness fading from his hand and the digits thinning back to their normal, slender size. Lucius noticed things about him that he didn’t. Maybe he had missed something that still made him okay inside…

Lucius ran his hand over Harry’s, covering his and sliding fingers between to hold him.

Harry clasped around the warm digits, grasping tight and staring at their entwined hands. “How do I learn control? How can I ever stop from doing something like this again?” Harry asked, his voice so quiet he wasn’t sure if Lucius could even hear him.

“You need to acknowledge what your body is trying to tell you. When you hide from yourself, that’s when your body takes over. You can’t hide.” Lucius’s voice was a soft rumble in Harry’s ear, warm and comforting as the man rested against his back.

“Oh.” Harry had spent a lot of time pretending he wasn’t as frightened as he truly was. Not just with Vernon. With the future. With who he was… If he was anything at all. Afraid of the things he really wanted. The happy things that made him feel like he was something and nothing, all at once.

“I think… I think I could sleep now.” Harry wiggled his fingers, waiting for Lucius to let go.

Lucius didn’t, instead wrapping his other arm around Harry’s waist and holding him tight. “Sleep when we’re home.”

“I can’t—”

“You can,” Lucius purred into Harry’s ear, warm and compelling, lips brushing lightly against his sticky neck. “Ask your body what it really wants. Clear away that busy, tangled mind of yours, and just ask your body.”

Harry closed his eyes, sighing softly. And then again, a heavier sigh as he leaned back against Lucius’s sturdy form. He felt so safe like this… Maybe even loved. Harry swallowed another rising sob at the thought. He liked this feeling. Didn’t want it to ever stop. If he could sink into Lucius and stay in his arms forever, maybe things would finally be okay.

“What does it say?” Lucius asked, his bristle rasping ever so lightly against Harry’s cheek.

Harry waited, fighting tears, not sure if he could speak it. If he should. Surely, somehow, he would be punished for voicing what he truly wanted.

“I… I want to go to the manor.”

Lucius kissed the side of Harry’s face gently and released him, standing fluidly. “Then let’s go home.”

Harry turned, shoes catching on the sheets. He got his legs over the bed and stood as well, his vision swimming strangely. Lucius caught him, giving him a concerned look that Harry tried to dismiss. “What about…?” He tilted his head towards the door and terrible things waiting downstairs.

“I’ve dealt with it,” Lucius said simply. He held his arm out and Harry took it hesitantly, feeling a bit ridiculous to be hanging off of Lucius Malfoy’s arm like some silly girl. But he was injured after all, and Lucius was very handsome.

“People will wonder where they’ve gone.” Harry hoped people would wonder. It was wrong for people to disappear and not have anyone care. Harry had almost disappeared and if it hadn’t been for the Malfoys, maybe no one would have noticed.

“That will also be taken care of once I’ve dealt with Dumbledore.”

“Oh.” Harry felt the niggling of fear again in the pit of his stomach. Dumbledore had high expectation for him. He had not, well, reached many, if any of them.

“It’s nothing to concern yourself with,” Lucius said, pausing on the stairs to catch his eye. “He will understand his guilt in the events that transpired here and he will relent. You will be safe.”

Harry nodded because there really wasn’t much else to do. Dumbledore had yet to see reason and he wasn’t sure he would, even in this. If it was reason and not Harry wanting something more than what he deserved. But at least he could admit to wanting it now. A life away from the Dursleys. Away from Dumbledore. A life for him with people that cared.

The living room was empty, the curtains pulled back to let in the morning light. The floor had been repaired, the drywall fixed, no blood, or grim, or dust, or broken anything. No Dursleys. Harry held Lucius’s arm tighter, the two of them walking through the spotless kitchen.

The frying pan still had a dent. Harry bit his lip and let Lucius pull him outside. He shut the door behind them and then together they popped away.

SCENE #The Manor

Draco was waiting, exhausted as he sat on the bottom step of the main staircase. When Harry and Lucius finally stepped through the front door, he got to his feet and practically ran, crashing into Harry with a huge hug. “Thank god, you’re okay! It was ages… I didn’t know…” Draco pulled back, waving his stray tears away and looking Harry over. “Is this…?”

“It’s not his,” Lucius supplied, Harry’s eyes wide with worry that he would have to explain all the blood.

“Fine, that’s fine then,” Draco said with relief, hugging Harry again, much to Harry’s chagrin and happiness. Harry patted his friend’s back only with a little awkwardness but Draco didn’t care. He never did. “Harry, did you need anything? Uh, maybe a bath?” Draco added, scrunching his nose once realizing the brunette was actually quite filthy.

“Yeah, I’ll uh, go.” Harry gave Lucius a questioning look, the man dispelling him away with a smooth gesture.

Lucius turned to his son, Draco staring after Harry worriedly once seeing the blood in his hair. “It he okay? Really?”

“Physically, yes. Emotionally… Well, we’ll see.”

“So did you…?” Draco raised his eyebrows, tilting his head questioningly.

Lucius cleared his throat. He knew Draco would respect Harry’s privacy better than anyone else. “There was an… accident. Harry killed his relatives the other night. Considering the arrangement of the blast and the damage done, the uncle was right on top of him when his magic exploded out in defense. The other two didn’t survive the force. As you can imagine, he blames himself.”

Draco, who had gone silent at the news of Harry having hurt anyone, scowled. “It serves the damn monsters right. Dumbledore never should have brought Harry back there. There were only two ways that was going to end. I was sitting here all night worried you were burying him!”

“I waited too long. I was afraid… I don’t know. I shouldn’t have waited,” Lucius admitted with a mutter. “What’s done is done. I’m going to see that he hasn’t fallen. He’s been unsteady at best.”

Draco nodded, yawning deeply. “I’m going to bed. Thanks for…” Draco stopped, throwing his arms around Lucius and hugging him tight. “Thanks for bringing him back home.”

Lucius smiled down, hugging Draco back until the boy was finally willing to let go. “I think we all need some sleep. I’m going to call out from work for tomorrow and deal with what needs to be dealt with a little later.”

Draco stepped away, clasping his hands anxiously. “Is he… Is he in trouble? Normally, kids that are known for magical explosions are watched all the time. Never allowed near muggles either. He didn’t have anyone with power to help keep him from having accidents.”

Lucius nodded, shrugging his cloak from his shoulders. “It will be fine. I’m going to disclose the right information to a few key people, and nothing will be said of it again. Go along now. You look exhausted.”

Draco did, beaming relief at his father before shuffling up the stairs and into bed.

SCENE #Lucius needs

Lucius lingered downstairs, pacing his study. He wanted to go upstairs—Every fiber of his being needed to be upstairs with Harry. He was fighting it as hard as he could.

His worry had built the entire day. He had been consumed by fear of Harry’s death. The relief to find the boy alive and having merely killed his relatives had been short lived. Lucius had a new worry. He had finally seen the boy through all his little holes, Harry’s scraps of guarded defenses pulled away completely in that ugly house. Harry was fragile. The boy had nearly broken—That was how magic exploded. The user had to be on the verge of breaking. And seeing Harry fragile made Lucius feel.

Madness. The boy brought madness out in him. Burning, smoldering madness. Lucius wanted to go upstairs, wrap Harry in his arms, and swear his life to him.

The muggles had been a twisted char of flesh and bone. Divine sacrifice Lucius had not seen in many years. It brought the darkness back to the forefront of his being, the damn moods that haunted him still. Such perfect destruction. Elegant and beautiful in its utterly wild, remorseless execution. That the boy had done it—Still pure, somehow. Harry was fragile and tender, yet full of such terrible power. Lucius felt lost in its heady pull.

He remembered the last time he had come across such power. His father had forced him down, Riddle’s dark eyes absorbing all light in the room until there was nowhere else to look but into the yawning abyss. But Harry’s eyes glowed out of the darkness. They pulled and lit sparks that made Lucius burn. There was no one pushing him down, yet he was always on his knees when he touched the boy. Paying worship like some ravenous supplicant.

Could the little demon even understand? He had gained so much power over Lucius. Harry had learned his secrets, compelled them so easily from the man by just asking. When had he ever given something away of his past? Why had he? For a connection? Understanding? How had he become so twisted around this creature’s shaking, unsteady fingers?

Delicate, sweet, pure… Lucius wanted to be a monster so Harry would never fear it in himself again. He wanted to destroy any enemy that might think to step into his home and steal the boy away. He wanted to hunt down all before they even thought to cross him. There should be no one alive to think Harry belonged anywhere else. Lucius wanted to burn things, and people, and lay them at the demon’s feet in offering.

And still, he needed.

He was walking up the stairs before he fully realized what he was doing. Lucius had to make sure the boy was well, even now, even with Harry mere rooms away and in complete safety. He had to see. Had to touch, and taste, and know. The boy was fragile. Powerful and fragile. Broken and breaking everything in Lucius’s quiet life.

SCENE #Sweet madness

Harry was patting his hair off with one of the many fluffy white towels that littered the manor’s many bathrooms when Lucius strode in without knocking. Harry didn’t have the strength to bitch about the lack of privacy, actually happy to see the man. Alone, he thought too much. About what had happened. About how he didn’t deserve to feel good and live somewhere nice after what he had done. About how a part of him hadn’t fully been untruthful, and he was glad the Dursleys were dead and that he had killed them.

Lucius helped Harry to stop thinking, especially when the man gave a disdainful sniff at his pile of discarded clothes and immediately set them on fire.

“Hey! I was wearing those!” Harry yelped, stumbling back before the purple flames could catch on the towel he was holding.

“I know. This was to prevent you from trying to wear them again,” Lucius said with a drawl, pulling a towel off from the counter and wrapping it around Harry in a quick movement. Harry gaped, going red while Lucius looked down at him, the man’s handsome face expressionless.

“I wouldn’t have… They were covered in blood.”

“Yes, you would have,” Lucius said with such conviction that Harry had to believe him. He would wear pretty much anything as long as it wasn’t white.

“How do you feel?” Lucius asked, pulling Harry closer with the towel until they were pressed together, Harry’s body nude where it touched Lucius’s clothed front.

“B-better… The shaking has stopped.” Of course, the moment Lucius started touching him, a different shaking started in Harry and it seemed a moot point.

“Good.” Lucius suddenly stepped back, wrapping the towel all the way around the boy. “I fixed your glasses and I forgot to bring them.”

Harry trailed after the man, peeking towards Draco’s closed door down the hall. Lucius caught him, eyebrow raised in question. “Do you think you’ll be doing something my son will not approve of? We’re just getting your glasses.” Lucius pushed his bedroom door open, Harry blushing further.

“Whatever. If he yells, it’s your fault,” Harry mumbled, stepping in the room. Lucius closed the door slowly behind him and then stood absolutely still. Harry raised his eyes, wondering what was wrong, only to find the man looking him over, silver eyes raking his towel wrapped form heatedly. Feeling like he had just stumbled into a trap, Harry took a step back, Lucius smirking when his shoulders hit the door behind him.

“Lock the door,” Lucius said hoarsely, his hand reaching up to work the buttons of his collar.

Fire tingled down Harry’s spine at the words. Everything Lucius did was sensual, even when saying three simple, somehow naughty words. Harry searched for the handle behind him, eventually getting the bolt to click. “I thought we were just getting my glasses,” Harry said weakly, Lucius having finished his buttons to throw his dress shirt on the floor. The man then pulled off his t-shirt, stretching the white fabric over his head to reveal toned alabaster flesh and hard muscle.

“How do we know they work, unless you have something to look at?” Lucius asked, making no move to get Harry’s glasses anytime soon. Instead he stepped forward, Harry gulping as the man pushed him firmly against the door.

“Er… that is…” Damn it, sentences! How did Lucius do this to him, every time? A shirtless Lucius was even more distracting than a fully dressed one. Pale smooth skin with golden tufts of fur, muscles rippling easily, with only the small square of bandage on his shoulder to mar the sight. Harry furrowed his brow, hand brushing where he knew a scar was hidden underneath.

“I want to see them… All of you,” Harry said, fingers brushing slowly up where he knew one line wrapped perfectly around the man’s torso. “Please. You see mine.” Lucius gently caught his fingers, then used his wand to remove the glamours concealing his scars. Harry smirked lightly; he had remembered the exact location. He pulled his hand from the man’s grasp so he could touch the white mark again, thumb tracing slowly.

“I was worried about you,” Lucius confessed into Harry’s ear, his hands carefully unwrapping the towel from the boy and pulling it free. Harry gasped, once again naked and exposed in front of the immaculate man. His skin tingled, the blond’s heat warm against him. Lucius ran his mouth gently over Harry’s, lips slowly pulling a moan from the brunette. “I had thought they might have killed you… Was certain I had waited too long.”

Harry shrugged uncomfortably, a shiver running through him from the emotion in Lucius’s voice. “Well… he almost did, actually. He had this frying pan, and he… Okay… We really don’t have to talk about that right now,” Harry mumbled, the blond pulling him closer, arms moving down his body and cupping his ass tight.

Lucius kissed Harry harder than before, so demanding and desperate that it took the younger man’s breath away. He held Harry by the back of the neck, keeping him from escaping while he tasted every hot, wet plane of his mouth. Harry groaned, head and shoulders falling back against the door, Lucius pressing down against him so that he could barely move. Lucius’s tongue ravaged Harry’s, his teeth pulling at the boy’s firm lip and drawing blood from the cut still swollen there.

Harry cried out, Lucius grabbing his wrists and pinning them to either side of his head while lapping slowly down his chin. Then back up to plunge through his lips again, nipping and sucking the red pout.

“Lucius… you’re… oh hell.” Harry shuddered, the man rubbing his powerful body against him, showing just how hard he was and ready to have him. They shouldn’t be doing this. Harry had done a terrible thing and Lucius should not want to touch him after that.

“You’re never leaving my sight again,” Lucius hissed between kisses, moving down Harry’s throat to suck a red and violet welt. “I will kill anyone that tries to take you out of here. Aurors… Dumbledore… muggles… You will never be hurt like that again.”

“Oh fuck,” Harry gasped, Lucius’s erection moving down to find his, the cloth covered bulge rocking with slow, hard thrusts against his bare, silken flesh. “Lucius, you’re losing it.”

“I need you,” Lucius growled, sinking his teeth into Harry’s shoulder, the boy crying out, entire body jerking from the burning, delicious agony. Harry panted for air, Lucius releasing his teeth to move his head up and meet his gaze. What Harry saw left him speechless, something akin to emptiness and fullness clenching at his heart and making it race. Lucius had apparently lost it a while ago.

Lucius Malfoy was more naked than Harry at the moment. There was a wildness in the pale blue-gray eyes, an overwhelming of emotion when Lucius traced over the boy’s features. He was afraid, so afraid that Harry was about to disappear again, fearing someone with just a little more power and cunning would be able to steal him away. And Lucius was afraid because he helplessly needed him. Why, Harry could not understand. Just that Lucius needed him so badly that he was either going to weep, or bolt and chain the doors to keep the world away.

Harry felt sluggish, drugged by so much emotion directed at him. He had a feeling Lucius must have understood—Had even tried to hide it at the Dursleys, afraid he would run. Harry could barely handle his own emotions. But this… It was riveting to see the man like this. For him. Just for him.

Swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat, Harry pulled at one of his hands until Lucius reluctantly released his grip. Harry ran his fingers carefully over the man’s cheek, sliding up to press his thumb across his eyebrow. Lucius closed his eyes at the touch, breathing out harshly, trying to hold himself back from something Harry wasn’t sure needed to be held back. He continued his exploration, moving down Lucius’s nose, feeling the strong edge and then tripping slowly over the swell of the man’s mouth and lingering. Lucius’s lips parted, teeth gently catching Harry’s finger, holding him still.

There was a tension in the bite, Lucius’s muscles tight, the man’s breath rough and uneven. Lucius opened his eyes, the same madness burning in them revealed again. It sent strange flutters through Harry as if he was sparking again, but just on the inside. Just from the emotion in the man’s eyes. The desire for Harry to never leave.

“I’m safe now,” Harry said softly, his other fingers touching down around his trapped one, brushing the man’s lips, thumb moving over the coarse skin of the blond’s chin in short swipes.

“You’re home,” Lucius rasped, his voice almost inhuman, the emotion was so thick in it, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

Harry nodded, feeling the sting in his own eyes from the revelation of Lucius, raw and vulnerable. This man was not unafraid. No, he was just very well masked to appear so. As much as Lucius dressed in layers, poised and immaculate, so too did he hide himself. But he had stripped that away for Harry and it was very much a terribly beautiful gift.

Lucius was not weak, but he still held fear. And maybe, one day, Harry would not feel weak with his fear either.

“Lucius, I need you to do something,” Harry said suddenly, not sure if he was quite right. He felt so crazed inside all of a sudden. He pulled the blond’s face closer, resting the man’s forehead to his. “Just one thing. Promise.”

“Ask it.” Lucius’s eyes blazed.

“I-I know I don’t really have the right to… but… but could you not see anyone else? Just for a while?” Harry asked, worrying at his bottom lip. “I can’t bear the idea… I just can’t. I… I don’t like sharing.”

“I will never touch another soul as long as you want me,” Lucius promised swiftly, the palm of his hand cupping the side of Harry’s face.

“You don’t need to—That is…” Harry trailed off, really wishing he could shut up and let himself have this. He didn’t want to share Lucius. Ever. Even though they were probably far too different and a strange match in age and many other reasons Harry couldn’t be arsed to care about. He wanted to keep the man.

“Whether you had asked it of me or not, Harry, that was how it was going to be,” Lucius explained, lips brushing carefully over the side of the boy’s face. The tension was growing in the man, a restrained force revealed in every word, every halting breath, every twitch of finger.

Harry closed his eyes a moment, relief pooling through him. “Thank you. I just really… oh.” Lucius kissed him hard, fingertips digging ever so slightly into his cheekbone. Harry opened readily, releasing a heated moan when Lucius’s other hand suddenly grabbed his waist and moved over his side, touching him in a way he had not expected. Possessively, desperately, but still holding back, as if Harry was too fragile, too important to risk breaking. It made him burn inside to have Lucius want him this way.

Harry turned his head the next time Lucius gave him a moment to breathe, his mouth seeking out the palm resting on his cheek. He kissed the man’s hand, tongue flicking out, mouth widening so that he could scrape teeth against the flesh. Lucius hissed, watching intently, the hand on Harry’s waist tightening until he knew if he were to look the knuckles would be white. Harry shuddered, gasping as he licked between Lucius’s fingers, his tongue trembling to taste the man’s skin, to have his scent engulfing him so completely.

“Harry.” It was half a warning, half a plea. Lucius had lost all his pretty words. He could barely seem to move anymore except to twitch his fingers and tense his muscles while he watched Harry with pure need in his blazing eyes.

Harry met the man’s gaze and continued what he was doing, tongue and teeth moving up the man’s fingers. He felt very hot, feverish with those eyes on him, daring him to do terrible, teasing things. When Harry opened his mouth to take two fingers in, Lucius gave a low growl, moving his other hand down to Harry’s hip and slamming him hard against the door. Harry gaped, his eyes fluttering shut, tongue reaching out and brushing softly against the pads of Lucius’s fingertips.

The next time Harry opened his eyes, Lucius was sinking to his knees. The man was beautiful on his knees, staring up at him with such intensity. The hand Harry had been devouring was slowly pulled down his throat, tweaking his nipples in passing, brushing wet heat over his taut stomach and landing on Harry’s hip. The blond kissed Harry’s bobbing cock softly, teasing pressure on the beading tip and licking away his precum. Lucius looked up at him hungrily, Harry’s heart hammering in his chest. And then it all went white, Lucius whirling him, pushing him face first against the door and holding him in place.

It took Harry a moment to understand. Once he felt scalding breath moving down his crack, over his cheeks and lower, it was a revealing of desire so strong Harry’s legs began to tremble in anticipation. The first touch of tongue swiping, delving between his cheeks, and he knew he would only think of this whenever the man was on his knees again. “Oh god… Lucius.”

Lucius pushed Harry harder against the door, pulling his hips back, running his palms over Harry’s firm, tight globes. Lucius’s thumbs moved slowly, pressing into his yielding flesh and then firmly prying his cheeks apart, exposing him to the man’s gaze. Harry whimpered, his hands clenching into fists on the door, face resting heavily, eyes blankly staring at the painted woodgrain. Warm breath teased towards Harry’s twitching hole and he groaned, gritting his teeth. His body felt so tight, muscles clenched rock hard as he waited expectant, sweat dripping down his neck and back.

Slick, hot, Lucius’s tongue traced tentative over Harry’s hole. He howled, Harry’s entire body jerking fitfully. He heard Lucius growl loudly, reverberating through his thighs, and then the man was plunging into him, tasting him, tormenting. Each fiery thrust jolted Harry, his hole opening to the wet, thick assault and urging more. Harry spread his legs wider, tilting his hips down, whining low in his throat, needing more—Needing just more, and not knowing how to ask. Lucius’s tongue dripped saliva into him, hot fluids spilling over his balls, trickling down his thighs to cool in streaks.

“Lucius… I’m falling,” Harry warned, his voice breathless and everything hazy. One of his quivering knees had knocked forward suddenly and thudded into the door. His other began to shake harder while he struggle to remain upright. Lucius steadied Harry by the hips, slowly rubbing his body up the boy’s back as he stood. He pulled Harry tight against him, his still covered erection pressing against the brunette’s ass. Harry listened as the man kicked his shoes off and then he was being turned, Lucius’s stunning, flushed face coming into view. He looked even more wild than before, silver eyes hazy, long hair tousled and sexy, wet streaks at the corner of his mouth and down his chin. Debauched and hungry.

“I need you,” Lucius growled, tangling a hand in Harry’s hair and kissing him. He traced over the boy’s open lips with the tip of his tongue, Harry feeling weak and dizzy, and certain he was going to burst into flames at any moment. “I need to be inside you, Harry. Will you let me? I need to feel you around me, taking my cock, sucking in my seed.” Lucius shuddered, Harry’s body responding by thrusting forward.

“Yes,” Harry said desperately, too loud and not caring. “I want to, so bad… God, I can imagine it.”

“Yes.” Lucius leaned Harry on the door again, his fingers sliding down to the boy’s crack and seeking out his entrance. “How do you imagine it?”

Harry breathed out in a hard blast, a thick finger breaching him, worming its way inside, pushing boldly at his muscles. “It’s this ache inside… this ache that finally stops… When you push inside me, the craziness—Oh, oh god… oh,” Harry gave a sudden sob, his mouth latching onto Lucius’s shoulder as fire lanced through him.

Lucius groaned, not stopping his stretching, his hips giving an answering thrust as he tried to control himself. “Don’t stop, Harry. Tell me… Tell me everything… I want to know everything.”

Harry nodded, swallowing down another cry, his legs useless for anything but leaning as they trembled sweat. “It.. it burns, for a short while… But you’re big… so big… When you push inside me, it’s going to be like… like you belong there,” Harry whispered hoarsely, his face flushing at the thought. When he allowed himself to imagine Lucius inside him, the man very much belonged.

Suddenly Lucius was lifting Harry, pulling him roughly from the door and carrying him to the bed with sure steps. Harry blinked up from the comforter, panting while Lucius tore at his belt, the man’s hands surprisingly unsteady as they fought with his trousers. Harry gulped, Lucius winning against the material and pushing the slacks down his long, strong legs and stepping out. He wore briefs clinging to every hard muscle of hip, ass, and top of thigh, his large erection tenting almost obscenely. Harry had been right with his first assessment; Lucius was an Adonis.

“L-let me,” Harry asked haltingly, pushing himself up on the bed. Lucius made a low, dark sound in the back of his throat when the brunette touched fingers to his hips. Harry’s eyes widened, glancing up at the man’s face. Lucius looked strained with his jaw tense, pupils wide as he stared down, lips panting loud breaths. “I think you’re going to start burning things again,” Harry remarked breathlessly, licking his lips and slipping his fingers into the band of the man’s underwear.

Lucius made another broken noise when the boy’s thumbs brushed lightly over his swaying erection while pulling his briefs down. Harry realized it was the sound of his restraint cracking. He was suddenly thrown backwards, Lucius pinning him to the bed while kissing him ferociously. A laugh bubbled out of Harry, a hand grazing just the right spot on his stomach. Lucius only growled louder in response, biting down Harry’s neck repeatedly while the boy moaned and squirmed against his heavier form.

“You’re beautiful,” Lucius whispered fiercely, getting his arm around Harry enough to press two fingers slick with lube against his hole. Harry gasped in response, a groan escaping him when Lucius sunk the digits in, filling him and stretching. “Maddening… You are very much a demon… My demon.”

Harry shook his head, only to cry out, Lucius plunging his fingers in and out in a smooth rhythm. Harry raised his knees, wrapping his legs around the man’s hips, head thrown back as he gave in to the sensation.

“Sent to torment me… Drive me insane with want of you… I need you, Harry. I need you so much.”

Harry didn’t know how Lucius could say things similar to the terrible accusations Vernon had made, and yet make him feel so good, powerful and desired. Harry held the man’s silky blond hair, petting hands over the hard feel of his skull and down to his muscular neck. Lucius groaned, mouth sucking welts over his narrow collarbone.

“Have you ever put anything inside yourself?” Lucius asked, tongue moving up Harry’s neck while he plunged a third finger into the boy.

Harry could not answer right away, his entire body tensing from the feel of the thick knot of flesh moving into him, growing larger as it pushed deep. “Oh god… oh… N-never…”

Lucius groaned again, hot in Harry’s ear, tongue laving slowly. “It will hurt a little… You will be… so tight.” Lucius kissed Harry’s cheek hard and then licked him again. “But you must stay calm… The more you can relax… the sooner you will be in rapture.”

Harry wanted to nod, do something to explain he understood, but he kept moaning, the fingers inside him jolting again and again. He wanted more. Wanted to feel Lucius stretching him wide, making the ache stop like he was certain it would, if only the man would push into him.

“I can have you like this…” Lucius growled in his ear, Harry shuddering at the implication. “Or the other way… You won’t see me, but it will be easier the first time.”

“Want to see you,” Harry chose, turning his head to meet Lucius’s gaze. The man’s jaw was likely going to break, a vein throbbing in his neck while he looked Harry over savagely. Lucius carefully pressed his lips to his, almost chastely, tension so tight in his body, Harry wondered if he was just going to snap in half. Trembles began to run through Harry in earnest, saliva rising in his mouth that he swallowed down as Lucius glared hot desire at him.

Lucius removed his fingers, unhooking Harry’s ankles from around his waist and kneeling. He pulled him up his inclined thighs, palms spreading the boy’s knees wide. Holding Harry’s gaze, Lucius slid his hands down over his slender legs. He caressed the muscles there with summoned oil, paying special attention to Harry’s inner thighs and how tense they were, downy hair shimmering under the man’s massaging touch. Harry took a slow breath in, feeling Lucius’s cock settle between his thighs, the length brushing against his flesh, hot and slick with oil and sweat.

He was going to fuck him. Lucius was going to push into him, sink deep, and fuck him. Harry bit his lip, feeling a momentary flutter of anxiety. Lucius would be so close. Inside. Harry would be completely exposed and it made his stomach tighten in fear and anticipation all at once. Lucius wanted to do this with him. Needed to. And he… Harry really wanted to be needed.

Lucius ran his hand over Harry’s sack, tugging lightly, Harry mumbling a moan in response. His knees were spread wider, pushed higher. Harry forced his eyes back open, mouth going dry at Lucius’s expression. This man was going to eat him alive. Devour him whole. Burn him so hot, for so long, there would be nothing left of him but ash. Just like his clothes.

“Relax,” Lucius rasped. Harry choked on a laugh—Like hell! Hand gripping Harry’s hip, Lucius’s other guided his cock to the boy’s aching entrance. Lucius pressed against his hole, Harry jerking at the feel of it.

His cock was hot. So much firmer and wide than the fingers had been. Oh, and it was pressing in… so slowly… So impossibly wide… Filling… “Oh… oh no… s-stop,” Harry pleaded, his body tight, and hot, and too full.

Lucius panted in Harry’s ear, his restraining grip painful on the boy’s bony hip. Harry knew he was holding back, knew that this could have been even more overwhelming—God, it was so much. Too much… “You’re big… It’s really…”

“I know… I’m going to go slow… I promise, Harry… Just relax.” Lucius’s neck had flushed, Harry staring at it unseeing. His body had stopped trying to push the man out, now just clenching once in a while, agonizing, tight pulls that had them both groaning. Harry relaxed enough to allow his head to fall back, not realizing how tight he had been holding himself. And then he relaxed the muscles of his abdomen and then his thighs, his knees shaking and feeling too heavy for his legs while bent up in the air.

Lucius began to sink further into the boy, Harry gaping silent, feet pushing into the mattress and tangling the sheets, toes flexing. It was so big, stretching his flesh wide each burning inch Lucius lodged into him. Deeper with each breath. Slowly, surging thrusts, deep, until Harry was filled completely and Lucius was growling in his ear.

“Oh god… oh hell… Lucius—I can’t… I can’t,” Harry moaned, barely coherent, his head thrashing back, legs moving with jerks. The ache had not lessened. No, it was definitely worse, filled so tight, body burning from the inside out with Lucius’s deep inside. Belonging—But fuck, aching.

Lucius cupped Harry’s ass, holding his shaking body. As deep as he could already go, he pushed in harder, groaning at the feel of Harry clenching so tight around him. “You’re doing… fine… So fine… Just hold on.” He breathed over Harry’s mouth, the boy’s eyes squeezed tight, face bright red. “Harry… Harry, open your eyes.”

Harry shook his head, somehow more afraid to meet the man’s gaze at that moment than ever before. Surely Lucius would see him then, in that instant truly, and the man would be disgusted at every level.

“Harry, I want to see you… I need to see that you’re okay,” Lucius murmured soothingly, a hand rising up to rub the boy’s neck in smooth strokes. “It’s okay… Just for a moment.”

Harry whined, biting his lip. The burning was changing, more a warm, dripping ache inside that flared each time Lucius moved too much. “J-Just a moment,” he agreed, but still did not open his eyes.

“Come on, beautiful. Do not deny me your eyes.” Lucius pressed a kiss to Harry’s trembling lips, his tongue reaching out, teasing within and delving softly. “I could die in those eyes… That exact shade of green… I’m sure I’ve seen many die in that green.”

Harry gasped. Without consent, his lashes flew open, having to know if the man was joking. “That’s not—Oh! Oh… that’s terrible, Lucius,” Harry said breathlessly.

The blond was very serious, his pale eyes searing into Harry’s and reading everything he could find within him. There was no disgust. Lucius thought his eyes looked like the killing curse. And he liked it. A shiver worked its way down Harry’s spine but it wasn’t of fear. Instead he ached to realize that Lucius could think something so fucked up about him and worship him for it at the same time.

“I don’t care,” Lucius said huskily, his hand reaching up to tangle at the back of Harry’s skull, twisting his dark locks and holding his gaze. “I am a terrible man that has done horrible things. And I am never going to let you go.” He rocked his hips forward, Harry groaning, breath catching, eyes wide. “I know what you’ve done to me, Potter… With your pretty, red pout… and deadly, green eyes.”

“Lucius,” Harry whimpered, feeling the man shift inside him, pull slowly back and then surge forward hard. “Hell!” He cried out, white flashing in his vision for an instant, fire bursting through his veins.

Lucius hissed, hands moving over the boy while Harry moaned. “Yes… hell… you tormenting, delicious hell-spawn… Spread your legs wider… Open up to me.”

“You’re fucking… crazy,” Harry groaned, pulling at Lucius’s hair until the man kissed him.

“You’re going to scream now, little demon,” Lucius promised into Harry’s mouth. He held the boy’s hips, pushing Harry’s back flat to the bed again. Then he pulled nearly out all the way, Harry whimpering from the feel of the fullness receding. This time when Lucius slammed back in, he hit the spot inside him that made him scream, fire and color bursting behind his eyes.

Harry sobbed at the next thrusts, head back, arms nearly slack as each hit of Lucius’s large cock found his prostate. He grabbed at the sheets weakly, back arching, hips moving up every time Lucius slammed down. “Oh fuck… holy fuck.”

“You’re close.” Lucius sunk his teeth into Harry’s shoulder, biting hard, the boy’s entire body spasming uncontrollably from the pain. The man surged forward again, air escaping him in a blast. Harry clenched down when Lucius settled deep inside him, holding the man there as long and tight as he could. Where he belonged. Lucius gave an approving groan, hips rocking, grinding deep within Harry’s tight heat.

He was so close, could feel it—Oh, and Lucius! He was swelling inside, if that were even possible, somehow bigger… Or Harry was just growing tighter, caressing the thick length inside him, clenching again and again, urging it to jet deep within.

“My god,” Lucius groaned, his fingers digging into Harry’s flesh, knuckles turning white. He found the boy’s mouth again, kissing him hard, sloppy, his tongue demanding. Harry moaned and leaked saliva down his chin, sweat slipping over his torso, and precum dripping onto his tense stomach. He dug his feet into the mattress, pulling himself further onto Lucius, the man grinding, shallow thrusts slowing in fury for one imperceptibly long, agonizing eternity of bliss.

Harry shouted, his cry swallowed by Lucius’s devouring mouth, hips jolting forward uncontrollably when he came. And then he cried again, Lucius suddenly slamming into him, seed searing deep inside his tight passage, long spurts matching Harry’s as the boy’s cum shot over his stomach.

Harry couldn’t stop the moans. With each gasping breath he released another low, aching sound of disbelief and release. Lucius, sweating and shaking, began to kiss across his face, soothing, hoarse sounds to calm the boy’s heated senses.

“Hush… it’s okay… My god, you’re beautiful… so divine.”

“No, don’t—Stay inside,” Harry pleaded, grasping the man’s shoulder’s when it seemed he would withdraw. Lucius grunted, his chest heaving as he pulled Harry to him closer, rolling them together so that the brunette lay across him on the bed. The man remained buried deep inside, Harry held tight in Lucius’s muscular arms. The air was cool on his heated flesh, sweat prickling and drying on his trembling skin. Lucius ran his hands languidly over him, seeking trails of scars and soothing each with soft pads of his fingers.

Harry, face resting against the man’s throat, breathed in his scent, white blond hair tickling his nose, salty sweat tingling his lips. Everything tingled. His whole body. His skin was some sort of entity all its own, each cell moving with new energy. Lucius had filled him. With cum. With energy. With terrible, terrible need and emotion Harry did not know how to bear fully. But the madness that followed, the insanity that made them tear at each other’s flesh, drink each other’s noises and juices, and join their bodies as one—He was willing to face such emotion for that madness.

“Are you alright?” Lucius asked, his breathing back to something normal. He ran his mouth against Harry’s tips of hair, ruffling the dark locks lightly.

Harry nodded slowly, pulling his heavy head up so he could see the man. Lucius was beautiful, serene with a smile in his eyes, if not quite on his lips. “I… I like this. Feeling you inside me. Knowing that you n-need me…” He stumbled on the word need, not sure if it wasn’t something Lucius had said in the heat of it all.

Hands reached up to cup Harry’s face and Lucius’s thumb ran over his bottom lip. “I need you. I dare not think what my days would be like without you. My house would be clean, my senses hardly offended—”

“Lucius,” Harry groaned, rolling his eyes even as he smiled.

“I would not feel much of anything, Harry,” Lucius added, his expression growing serious. “I had not realized just how little I was feeling these last years until you started needling and burrowing your way under my skin. I am glad you are a hellion. Anything less would have escaped my attention completely.”

Harry bit his lips, not sure if he was being insulted or complimented. It still sounded pretty enough when falling from Lucius’s swollen lips, so he would take it as positive for now. He yawned suddenly, blushing as it rocked the softened flesh still buried deep inside him.

Lucius pulled Harry down against him, arms wrapping around him tight. He continued his languid exploration of his back while the boy closed his eyes, sleep eventually pulling him down. Safe and engulfed, Harry’s dreams were peaceful.

SCENE #Wizard powerplays

Lucius had spent a lifetime making terrible things disappear. They were only muggles. No one of importance would have even known of their existence if not for Albus Dumbledore seeking them out and using them for his personal means. That was usually how muggles were discovered if ever. As victims.

Lucius suggested an automobile crash. The Dursleys were mangled and there was little point assembling them. A car connecting with the ground after a tumble off a cliff would be appropriate enough. Muggles put themselves in such danger every day when they got into their racing vehicles, thinking they were immortal when they had no power to even protect themselves from a collision.

He brought the bodies to Dumbledore’s domain, gracing the great castle nearly empty while students rejoined families for the summer. Albus was quiet. The headmaster had also spent a lifetime making terrible things disappear. The men understood each other well in that regard. The question was, of course, the terms.

Lucius had been clear what he would do if his demands weren’t met.

Dumbledore had created the blood wards that protected number four on Privet Drive. It was not something one could hide; magic was a signature. He had placed himself as a power of authority for a boy that could not control himself, allowed that boy to be abused, and then left him with the abuser. The math was stark. Dumbledore had not monitored Harry’s condition to make sure his explosive magic was contained. And he had not monitored the boy to prevent him being harmed—A crime to Lucius, but not so much to the rest of the wizarding world.

He would go after the school. Full charges would be pressed, questions asked as to why Harry’s condition wasn’t noticed. And then Lucius would use Harry’s memories against the headmaster, showing the letter he had written for help, the time he had gone to Dumbledore and had been turned away because ‘protection from Voldemort was top priority.’ Muggles and muggleborns would become villains once again, the great Savior of the Wizarding World attacked by simple common folk. Even if the school could distance from Dumbledore, they would not be able to distance from that.

Lucius would make sure. He would destroy the equality the school tried to foster just to break the man that had allowed Harry to be hurt. Or Dumbledore could bend to his will.

Albus had acquiesced. Harry was no longer his responsibility in any sense. No longer his tool to manipulate. No longer welcome at Hogwarts.

The Dursleys would be forgotten in the pages of a newspaper and Harry would never be questioned. The muggles barely knew he existed. His relatives had spoken about him as if the boy had been a hardened criminal, distancing themselves at every turn. Harry slipping away, far from Privet Drive to be soothed between Lucius’s sheets, would go completely unnoticed.

Lucius hadn’t even had to raise his voice.

“I was a pleasure to see you again, Albus.” Lucius lifted his cane and dipped his head graciously.

Dumbledore nodded in reply, his back particularly stiff as he walked around the prone forms of what was left of the Dursleys and got the door for Lucius. “As it was you, Lucius. Draco will be looking forward to the upcoming year. The seventh year spells are always the most exciting for the students.”

“I remember,” Lucius agreed, pausing in the doorway. “I expect Harry’s records will be available within the week. I want everything in order before the school year.”

“I will see to it,” Dumbledore said with only a slight tension to his mouth. The man did not like to lose, Lucius knew that well. But he had and would not make a fuss over it.

“Good day, Albus,” Lucius said, stepping out into the stone hallway.

Dumbledore gave him a final piercing glare. “Of course.”

Lucius had left once Draco was up and rested well enough to watch over Harry. He did not fully trust that Harry was balanced about what had happened. It would not be wise to leave him alone for long. Certainly not among a school full of students. Especially a school where the teachers had well proven they could not be trusted to protect the boy.

Lucius did not go straight home. He returned to Privet Drive, the wards still open to him. With intent, he went through the tiny muggle house, seeking out the adults’ bedroom and riffling for anything related to Harry. He found the boy’s record of birth, as well as photos of his parents and letters in a bundle hidden in a shoe box in the closet. It was so cliché he wanted to groan. Such ordinary people. They probably hid their valuables in the underwear drawer.

There was no greatness here. It was amazing Harry had grown as much as he had, stifled in such mundane organization. Lucius would have to think of something to challenge the young man. A tutor, most definitely. But also something to get him out of the manor and seeing the world more. The boy seemed content to be confined in dark, cramped spaces. Seeing Privet Drive and the cupboard, he felt it was time to change that.

It would be good for Lucius too. He had grown complacent in his routines. Work, home, work again. Even when Narcissa had been living there, the routine had been the same for years. Summers were actually a relief, Draco home to brighten things and interrupt a bit.

Harry… The boy had his routines, but in a different, more energizing way. He did not wake up, but jumped up, usually shouting from nightmares. Even the simple act of wearing clothing had been caustic to the senses. He ate as if he had never truly known a meal and expected to lose it if he looked away. The boy appreciated things, more things than Lucius took notice of everyday. It would be good to see the world like that while around him.

Lucius gave a final look around the dim, squalid house that Harry had called home for almost seventeen years. There were no traces left of the incident that happened here. Except the magical aura, but little could be done of that. Anyone with magical sensitivity would always find the place ‘wrong’ or ‘creepy.’ Not just from the explosion Harry had wrought, but the violence that had occurred for many years. Houses held onto their humans’ emotions. They rotted, twisted and decayed just like the beings that went about their day, filling their home with their own negativity.

Vernon could blame Harry all he liked for ‘ruining’ his family, but without the Dursleys, Harry was a positive, bright being. The Dursleys, on the other hand, had been twisted even with Harry gone each school term.

SCENE #Draco’s friendship

Harry woke with a gasp, his heart racing, pounding in his chest. Vernon had been… No…

No, Vernon was dead. He had killed him.

Harry sat up slowly, staring at his hands while waiting for his heart to calm. God, were the nightmares just going to be worse now? How much more final could you get beyond stone cold dead?

“Pipsqueak made you something to eat.”

Harry yelped, jolting at the sound of Draco’s voice.

“Shit, you’re jumpier than a cat.” Draco handed Harry his glasses, Harry slipping them on in time to see his friend glare calculatingly. “So I can’t help but notice you’re naked and in my father’s bed.”

“Oh, crap…” Harry flinched, eying his friend as he hid himself further under the sheets and tried to come up with a plausible excuse. “Er… I got lost?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Relax. I’m not going to kill you… Yet.” He pushed a tray of food next to Harry and sat down on the side of the bed. “I need to wait until you get your strength back.”

Harry bit his lip, avoiding Draco’s gaze. “I didn’t… that is… I didn’t do it to upset you.”

“Geez, I hope not. That would just be super weird. And it’s already super weird.” Draco huffed, folding his arms over his chest. Harry hesitantly grabbed half a sandwich off the plate, seeing as Draco didn’t seem to be in a hexing mood. The moment it hit his tongue he was salivating, wolfing the food down with less chewing than was probably required. Harry kept eating, pulling the tray over and drinking down a large glass of juice.

“So, which one are you?”

Harry glanced up, in the middle of biting a large chunk out of an apple.

“Top or bottom?”

Harry choked, coughing loudly as his face turned red. Draco watched with a satisfied smirk, grabbing Harry’s glass before it could fall and spill the last drops of liquid.

“Don’t actually tell me. It’s just funny to watch you squirm. And don’t ever show me, at that. I may be able to handle this as long as I never have to see or hear any of it.”

Trying not to die, Harry wiped at the tears that had come to his eyes, his face flushed red. He eventually got his coughing under control. “Shit… So you’re not going to kill me?”

Draco shrugged, giving Harry a long side glance as he stole a bite of the remaining sandwich. “You’d be surprised what I’m willing to put up with. As long as you’re not suffering with those muggles and Father isn’t burning the house down. He… he likes you, Harry. A lot. More than I thought he could like anyone, actually… Hence the burning, breaking, yelling and stuff,” Draco added thoughtfully. “I’m not going to fuck that up for him.”

Bitting his lip, Harry felt extremely uncomfortable when Draco suddenly glared at him and continued, saying, “So you better not be just messing around with him. Got it?”

“I’m not,” Harry said a little hoarsely, not a hundred percent certain what he was doing with Lucius, but knowing it wasn’t messing around. Not after earlier and seeing the man so raw and open like that. It had wounded him in a way, and he was having difficulty handling even the memory of it.

Draco nodded at his answer, looking satisfied for the moment. “Alright, so how about a swim? Something to get you out of the house. Maybe distract a bit?”

“Yeah, okay. That would be nice.” Harry went to get out of bed, then stopped, realizing he had nothing on and no clothes in sight.

“You know, I could leave you here to suffer, but I’d only be hurting myself having to see your scrawny ass running through the house,” Draco muttered, getting up to get Harry his bathing suit. Harry just smirked, fairly certain his ass wasn’t scrawny at all.

He looked around idly, wondering where Lucius had gone to. He hadn’t felt the man leave. And considering how they had fallen asleep, that was a task all its own. Harry flushed, eyes closing involuntarily as he felt an ache between his cheeks, his body wonderfully sore and intent on reminding him just what he had done with Lucius.

Was it wrong of him, enjoying himself so much? Harry was only hours away from the destruction of the muggle family he had grown up with. Lucius hardly seemed to care… But he wasn’t Lucius and was never going to be. Lucius had done things, intentionally, to gain his existence. Harry had just reacted to things being done to him, and was still reacting. He sighed, running his hands over the sheets thoughtlessly.

He was going to have to make a decision soon. About how he was going to feel about it all. He couldn’t just keep reacting forever. One of these days, he was going to have to own his feelings, not just perceive them as independent entities that clung to him. Just… not today.

SCENE #Blood claiming

“Father, finally.”

Lucius paused as he walked in the door, Draco waiting for him with worry on his face. “What?”

“He’s cleaning. With his hands.” Draco said sharply, pacing two steps in agitation. “I told him I could just spell it away, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Lucius sighed internally. “Where is he?”

Draco pointed down the hall, grabbing the door before Lucius could shut it. “Call me if you need me. Otherwise, just keep it down.” Raising his brows at Draco’s turn around on his relationship with Harry, Lucius watched his son escape into the warmth outside.

Harry was in the kitchen, crouched on the floor in a damp bathing suit and no top, scars exposed to the late afternoon light. He was bleeding, naturally, a gash on his ankle from where he had tripped and cut himself on the vintage brass table in the hallway. From what Lucius could tell, he was desperately trying to clean up the spots of blood with his hands, following the trail back, only to drip more in the process.

“Did you lose something?” Lucius asked dryly, Harry only glancing towards his legs briefly in acknowledgement.

“Is this when you say my mind?” Harry grumbled, rubbing his palm roughly on the kitchen tile, streaking red that quickly turned orange and then faded gone.

Realizing he was at least lucid and not as mad as Draco had made Harry out to be, Lucius relaxed and leaned against the counter. “Oh, I was going to say your wand, or healing charm, or a bandage… Even a towel would be preferable to this.”

“I’m having trouble doing things,” Harry said tightly, eyes again glancing towards Lucius’s leather boots. “Tripping. Vision keeps getting dark.”

“You’ve been through a shock. It sounds like your blood pressure is low.” Lucius raised a brow at the boy, eyes running over the curve of his back and the muscles moving there. “When was the last time you ate?”

Harry paused, slowly raking his teeth over his bottom lip. “Couple of hours ago.”

“Time enough for a meal.”

Nodding silently, Harry stared at what his hands were doing, eventually sitting back on the floor, head bowed forward. He pressed at the cut on his ankle, fingers trying to stop the flow of blood with little success.

Lucius couldn’t help but notice that the boy had started to skitter again in his presence, stunning green eyes touching his way tentatively only to run and hide beneath his dark lashes. He wasn’t sure what one was supposed to do in a situation like this. Lucius knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to shake the little brat until Harry finally realized there was nothing to worry about, he did truly care, and no one was ever, ever, ever going to hurt him again.

Eyes raking over the boy, Lucius amended his previous thought, changing shaking to something more delectable, such as kissing, and tasting, and all around pawing. But he wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do in this situation either. He had lost his control earlier that day, just so relieved to have Harry back and in one piece. That he could have actually been damaged—No, dead. Nearly dead.

But that was done. A blip of less than a weekend. Harry was back, bleeding on his floor, skittering and uncertain. Why wasn’t he certain? Had he pushed too fast? Read the signals wrong? Was he supposed to be… paternal or something? Lucius did not want to be Harry’s parent.

“Potter, stop bleeding on my floor,” Lucius said heavily, his head spinning with all his annoying thoughts.

Harry glanced up at him, brows furrowed. “You were just angry I was cleaning it.”

Lucius ran his tongue over his teeth, relishing the sensation as those very green eyes lingered a little too long on him, sliding down his form instead of immediately glancing away. “I wonder sometimes… Is this your way of marking your space?”

“What?” Harry asked, forced again to look up at Lucius.

“Getting your blood everywhere,” Lucius said silkily. “Do you think if you get enough on my floor—not to mention what you did to the bathroom wall the other week when you failed at shaving—that you’ll stake your claim?”

Harry blushed, pulling his ankle towards his body, blood dripping out between his fingers where he held the wound. “That’s crazy talk,” he muttered, refusing to look up. Lucius watched him, eyebrow twitching when the little hellion slowly lifted his hand from his ankle and looked at it questioningly. Harry then proceeded to wipe his hand on the kitchen floor, deliberately streaking the white tile with his blood. “You, Sir, are a crazy person.”

Lucius was pretty certain whatever Harry needed from him, it was never going to be paternal. A father—at least a proper one—would not wish to fuck the prat out of such a devilish young man. Inhaling sharply, Lucius walked over and crouched behind Harry, looking down at the boy’s bowed head and shoulders. “You’re going to clean that, correct?”

Harry shrugged noncommittally, rubbing the side of his finger onto the tile and adding another blob of red. “Don’t have anything to clean with.”

Lucius grabbed Harry’s hand, the boy stilling his motions. Was he afraid? Upset about something?

Wondering why Harry was still flinching and skittering around him, Lucius slowly licked one of the red fingers, tasting copper and flesh. Harry made a strained, choking noise, trying to pull his hand away. Lucius wouldn’t let him, lapping in slow, thorough movements until his hand was completely clean.

“W-Where did you go?” Harry asked, voice higher than normal. “I woke up and you… you weren’t…”

Realization dawning, Lucius rested his other hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I was dealing with the Albus situation. Did you think I wasn’t coming back?”

Harry didn’t say anything for a long moment, rocking his sticky ankle back and forth on the floor. “When I’m alone… I forget who I am. In a day, just one day, my life flipped crazy and I lost myself. Now, it feels like whenever I’m alone, I’m going to get sucked right back there. Even though it’s gone. Even though he’s dead. Somehow I feel it’s waiting for me when there is no one around to remind me otherwise.”

Lucius kneaded Harry’s neck, the boy giving a sigh and relaxing. “Draco was here. He wants to help you.”

“I can’t… He wouldn’t understand this.” Harry glanced over his shoulder, uncertainty on his face. “It’s good he doesn’t understand. No one has ever hurt him. He’s never hurt anyone. But I can’t talk to him.”

“I told him what happened. He’s not ignorant, Harry. He knows some of the dark deeds his mother and I have committed. He won’t reject you—If I hadn’t gone for you, I know he would have eventually.”

Harry rolled his shoulders, Lucius wondering if the boy was trying to push him away. He stilled his hand but Harry didn’t repeat the motion. “It would have been too late, anyways.”

“You didn’t tell us how bad it was,” Lucius pointed out. “Draco had suspicions, but not enough to come to me before you were first kicked out. Silence is not the answer in these sorts of situations even when it feels like the only thing.”

“What, like you would have done anything a year ago?” Harry asked, disbelief and anger mixing in his voice. “Dumbledore didn’t. You didn’t even know me then—Hell, do you even know me now?”

Frowning, Lucius sat fully, pulling the huffing boy back into his arms. He rested his chin on the top of Harry’s head, hands following down his narrow arms to clasp lightly. “How well, exactly, does anyone know another? At what point can you just relent and accept that I enjoy your company? Must I crawl inside your head, learn everything there could ever be to know? There are millions that enjoy time together that don’t have such requirements. Why do you demand it for someone to like you?”

“I dunno.” Harry ducked his head further, his hair tickling across Lucius’s chin. “I just… I don’t understand why anyone would like me.”

Lucius sighed, not sure if verbalizing just what made Harry so appealing to him would actually be good for the boy to hear. Compliments seemed to have the opposite effect when Harry was in this mood. “Because you are there. You do not need to be special, or morale, or perfect—Or fashionable and neat, in your case,” he teased softly. “Shall you try to put into words why you like me beyond the superficial things one always thinks of when with a lover?”

Harry huffed again, resting heavier against Lucius. “I like you because… well, because. You listen. And you understand me… sometimes. And you’re strong. Powerful… I feel safe around you… And you’re a crazy person—I mean, you did burn all my clothes.”

“And you like me.”

“Yes,” Harry nodded, twining his fingers with Lucius’s.

“Even though you know very well I have done terrible things for flimsy justifications at best.”

Harry shifted, tilting his head until he was rubbing his cheek against the man’s raspy jaw. “I probably shouldn’t, huh? I mean, a proper person would think that was horrible and not want to be around you.”

Lucius raised a brow, smirking slightly. “You are anything but proper. Terror, comes to mind. Hellion. Demon.”

Harry scoffed, turning and nearly smacking his head into Lucius’s nose. “I am a very nice person. I am polite, and respectful, and bloody nice!”

“That’s not what my son tells me.” Lucius watched Harry blush, the boy’s annoyance fizzled by his embarrassment.

“You can’t count what I do at school. I’m talking about here, at the manor, where I’m a perfect guest and you have a vendetta against me.” He paused, glaring slightly. “Wasn’t I brooding about something?”

“Not that I recall. I’m pretty sure you’ve been sitting here the entire time, trying to stain my kitchen floor with your blood in the hopes that I will relent and give you the room permanently.”

“You know, instead of complaining, you could have healed me ages ago,” Harry shot back, a small grin crossing his face.

“I could have, but then I would have missed you becoming woozy from blood loss and susceptible to my many charms.” Lucius moved his warm hands up Harry’s bare arms, the boy shivering in response. “I believe this is the first time I’ve seen you without a shirt intentionally.”

Harry turned forward again, one of his hands running over Lucius’s raised knee and then down, pulling up his pant leg to examine his expensive boot. “I was swimming and it was just Draco. I thought maybe you would have come back…”

“And then you broke yourself and decided to paint my floor.” Harry’s neck flushed and Lucius smirked. Turning Harry red was becoming his favorite hobby. “What did you want now that you’ve found me?”

If possible, Harry turned redder, now his shoulders coming in to play. Lucius couldn’t hear his answer, leaning forward when the boy ducked his head and mumbled something. “What was that?” Lucius asked, running his hand down the center of Harry’s stomach, feeling the muscles twitch in response.

“N-nothing,” Harry gasped.

“Oh, it was something, you little hell-spawn.” He flicked his tongue out, teasing a trail down below Harry’s ear. “Something rude and inappropriate that you just can’t help yourself to say.”

“Was not,” Harry insisted weakly. “I had… I had missed you.” He peeked to the side, catching Lucius’s eye. “By your account, enough to bleed all over your floor to lure you back.”

Lucius gave a hungry growl, running his hands down the boy’s sides and slipping fingers beneath his waistband. “Did you enjoy yourself earlier? Spread wide… full.”

“God, yes,” Harry whispered heatedly and Lucius had no doubt now that the brunette had been waiting for him to come back to do it again. Maybe he had even grown insecure when Lucius had taken as long as he had to return.

“Tell me what you liked about it,” Lucius asked with a purr, fingers moving teasing, taunting beneath the boy’s bathing suit, brushing soft touches of fire.

Harry gave a choked laugh, hips jolting, foot nearly smacking into the refrigerator. “All of it. Every freaking thing.”

“Oh, I think something must have stood out as better… Tell me the things you like best,” Lucius insisted, wanting to know. He kissed Harry’s neck, pulling the boy’s hips closer.

Harry gave a weak moan as he thought, head rolling to the side. “That thing… when you knelt… That was amazing.”

“Yes, you did seem to enjoy that. Which works out, since I really enjoy doing that. What else do you really like?”

“Damn… okay, the other day. In the bathroom,” Harry said hesitantly, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Yes?” Lucius prodded when Harry seemed unable to finish the thought.

That it was easy to turn the boy scarlet did not make it any less delicious to see. Lucius smirked as Harry gave a shiver, voice raising in pitch. “You had… okay… all over me,” Harry muttered barely above a whisper, swaying when Lucius suddenly nipped at his neck.

“You liked it when I covered you in my cum,” Lucius said lowly, watching Harry react to the words as if they were a touch. The boy arched back, head falling on the man’s shoulder heavily as he panted up. “What about today? When I came inside you?” He ran one of his hands up, thumb moving over Harry’s nipple and squeezing.

Harry groaned, his hips jolting, legs stretching out and then bending back up. “I could feel it… god, dripping out… Inside me… That was really good.”

Lucius growled at the answer, knowing he was losing control and having a hard time caring at the moment. “Yes, it was… You were so tight… What else, Harry? What else do you like?”

Wiggling back against the bulge growing in Lucius’s pants, Harry answered readily, his embarrassment slipping away as he grew more aroused. “I want to suck you. I want to know… god, what it’s like to feel you in my mouth.”

Lucius could really not think of any good reason Harry’s beautiful red pout should not be stretched around his hard cock. He had imagined it so many times before, in so many different way. “Upstairs, Potter,” he ordered roughly, his hands already helping to push Harry to his feet.

Harry hesitated, watching Lucius rise, eyes hooded in lust. “Or maybe… down the hall? Your study?” He asked, wagging his eyebrows slightly. “You know… because I’m pretty sure I’ve only been in there with clothes on.”

Lucius inhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing as he thought. “I like my study.”

Harry smirked, stepping back towards the door. “I do too. It smells nice in there. And it’s always cool and quiet.”

“You’re still bleeding. Actually the last time you were in my study…”

“Wasn’t bleeding. You had fixed that in the other room.” Harry reminded, his grin growing. “You think I’m going to ruin your office.”

Lucius took a step forward, Harry gulping and sliding his foot backwards. “I know you’re going to ruin my study. That’s what you do.”

Harry shrugged, his cheeks flushed. “But the last time we were in there together—”

“Because you’ve been in there without me,” Lucius growled, remembering the teabag in a completely different light all of a sudden.

“Ha… ah… It’s nice and quiet in there… and it smells like you… and leather.” Harry had managed to find and nearly knock over a large vase of fresh flowers sitting in the hall as he backed away from the growling man. “I’m trying to remind you of the last time—Actually, kind of first time. When you were fixing my tooth…”

“I am very protective of my study.” Lucius watched as Harry barely dodged around another narrow table in the hall, eyes falling to his foot. “And you’re still bleeding.”

Biting his lip, Harry stopped, holding his ankle up and trying not to sway. “Well, fix it already. And then we can… you know…” He blushed, fidgeting as he stared at Lucius expectantly.

“What? Ruin my study? I think not.” Lucius took another step and when Harry realized the man was not going to heal him, he stumbled back, eyes wide.

“You know what? I know how to fix this,” Harry said, his voice full of breath as he watched Lucius cautiously from beneath lowered lashes. “It’s going to be my study.”

Lucius froze, trying to figure out what the boy was getting at. “What?”

“Well, if the bathroom is mine, and the kitchen—And you had not problem doing stuff there with me…” Harry’s grin turned wicked right before he turned and ran down the hall. Lucius stared after him, trying to figure out what the boy was implying. Then he noticed the blood on the hardwood floor and it all clicked.

The damn terror was going to bleed all over his study.

SCENE #Punishment

“Oh god, I’m sorry… Hell, promise… fuck… please, Lucius… Please.”

“Not until you’ve cleaned it all,” Lucius growled.

Harry moaned, Lucius pushing him down into the leather chair that felt like butter, head falling back. “But I’m so hard!”

“That is the point,” Lucius said with a purr, “Otherwise it’s not a punishment.”

“But it’s not a punishment—”

“Oh, it is, you little brat. Give it some time and you’ll see what kind of suffering you’re in for.” Lucius had taken the initiative to close the curtains and silence the room just in case his poor son had decided to swim to distract from the torture he was going to be inflicting on Harry. His little lover had managed to bleed out on most of his study floor and had just been raising his ankle to smear his desk when he had finally gotten into the room. He had promptly bound the boy’s wrists with a spell, something the two of them had quickly discovered Harry liked. A lot.

Green eyes hazy, red lips panting loud gasps of air, Harry stared up at Lucius with his hands tied behind his back, his thin bathing suit tenting from his needy erection. Lucius found himself kneeling between the boy’s spread legs, fingers lighting ever so softly on Harry’s knees. “I am going to heal you, so that you will stop bleeding on my things,” Lucius murmured, watching Harry’s eyes widen with each word. “Then you are going to clean up your mess.”

“H-How? I don’t… my hands…” Harry whimpered, pulling at his bonds again, his back arching and nipples peaking under Lucius’s gaze. “Oh god, you keep looking at me like… ha…” He trailed off, eyelids lowering as he fell silent under the man’s intense stare.

Lucius pulled the boy’s leg up, gripping him by the ankle and tugging it roughly to his broad shoulder. “You will have to make do,” he said huskily, attention straying to the streams of crimson decorating the boy’s olive toned flesh, paler where his ankle flared to his foot. “You are a very resourceful young man.” He reached his tongue out, hovering above the heat of Harry’s skin.

“Please,” Harry whispered when Lucius hesitated. Silver eyes snapped to his and he gasped, very much staring at a predator about to eat him alive. “Please,” he repeated more insistent, trying not to squirm. Lucius touched his tongue to his foot and Harry moaned, hips jerking, body slipping down the chair.

“This is how you’re going to clean my floor,” Lucius breathed out slowly, lapping another long swipe over Harry’s foot. “All of it. Every drop. On your knees with your hands bound.” He reached up, tugging at the hem of Harry’s bathing suit. “Naked.”

Making a noise between a laugh and a gasp, Harry let his head sink deeper against the chair, eyes fixed on Lucius’s red tongue. “Okay… That seems, er… fair,” he whispered weakly, his cheeks turning red. Lucius continued to lick up his ankle, looking like some pale, beautiful vampire. “I still get to… that is…” Harry licked his lips, waiting for the man to look at him again. “I still want to suck you.”

“After,” Lucius promised, smiling wickedly. “Once your jaw is aching and your tongue raw. After your senses are full of blood and dust. Maybe your lips will be splintered… maybe chapped and bleeding. Only then can you have a taste of me, you little hellion.”

Eyes wide, Harry gaped at the man, his hips jolting forward. “Holy crap… you’re crazy—Hell!” He yelped, Lucius tugging him closer by his foot, bending his leg and letting it slip over his shoulder. Harry didn’t dare tell the man he was getting blood on his shirt. He did not want to give Lucius another excuse to be crazy.

Harry bit back a wild smile, trying to draw his eyes away from where a flash of red was now on Lucius’s neck. Maybe if he bled on the man a little, Lucius would be his, just like the kitchen, bathroom, and undoubtedly study. “Uh, hey, Lucius?”

“What?” Lucius ran his lips lightly over Harry’s, hands now free to find the waist of his bathing suit.

“What if I just said I was really sorry?” Harry asked, pressing forward and trying to get a proper kiss. Lucius skirted away, keeping the pressure barely there. “Come on… I’m really, really sorry,” Harry said sincerely.

“You are not even remotely sorry,” Lucius replied gruffly, hands caressing down Harry’s smooth ass and thighs as he pulled his bathing suit down. He lifted the boy’s hips up, freeing the material from the chair. “You’re a destructive little hell-spawn that is intent on destroying everything I own.”

Harry couldn’t help but smirk. “You’re a wizard. You can just fix it all.”

Lucius growled, pulling away with a glare. He released Harry’s legs and removed the boy’s shorts in a quick motion. “Get on the floor, you brat. Put that rude mouth of yours to something useful for a change.”

Harry stared at the man disbelieving. He was serious. Lucius actually expected him to lick the damn floor. Harry let his gaze stray to the gleaming hardwood. A dozen small red spots sprinkled foot length apart and one rather large spot splotched by Lucius’s desk where he had dug his fingernail in, trying to get enough to—Alright, maybe he deserved this, just a little. But only a little.

Harry wiggled down off the chair, bracing himself on his feet while trying not to fall without his arms for balance. His shoulder blades pulled back deliciously, his nipples hardening each time, along with his already hard length. He glared at Lucius, the man just raising a brow, lips pursed. “Hey, heal me already!” Harry held up his ankle, nearly falling over when he lost his balance.

Lucius caught him, the man’s clothing making Harry’s skin jolt with fire. Blushing, Harry watched as Lucius bent down his leg, wand pointing to his ankle to heal him. The man was nearly on his knees and it made him think of all the good things that happened whenever Lucius was on his knees. As if reading his mind, Lucius licked a small patch over Harry’s sharp hipbone, free hand coming up to cup his ass and squeeze. Harry moaned, pressing his hips forward, hoping the man would get the hint and just suck him.

“Hurry up, Potter. Before it starts staining my floor.” Lucius pulled away from Harry and stood once again. Harry let out a disappointed moan, feeling very unsteady without the man to hold him upright.

“Fine,” he huffed, bare feet slapping on the floor. He glared back, but Lucius did not look sorry in the least to be doing this to him. Harry deliberately turned his back to the man, growling as he carefully sunk to his knees and tried not to fall on his face. It was just a stupid spot of blood—He was hardly going to freak out over it. He was halfway bending towards the floor, tongue outreached, when he began to have an inkling of ulterior motive in this particular punishment.

Bending forward with his arms tied back made his stomach muscles clench, keeping him from breathing deep. Harry’s shoulders pulled back, neck tight and heavy, nipples tingling. His thighs spread wider for balance, muscles tight, hard cock bobbing with each movement, knees digging painful into the hard floor. Through the heat suddenly rising in him, Harry realized Lucius had a good view of his ass. Very good, if the man’s approving hum had anything to say about it.

Face flushing with just how aroused he was suddenly feeling, Harry bent forward as far as he could, sinking down between his spread knees. Sweat began to trickle down his back and neck, his breath coming out in harsh pants. Had Lucius known this was going to happen? Or was there just something very wrong with him, liking to be tied up and forced to lick the floor? Groaning at the very idea, Harry reached his tongue out, eyes half closed as he managed to finally touch his tongue to the ground.

“Slowly… go slow,” Lucius said, his voice sounding low and rough in the quiet room.

Harry exhaled sharply, eyes closing, body clenching with need. He lapped his tongue out again, the floor polished smooth against his skin, feeling hard and only a little dusty. Harry went slow, tracing his tongue over the bumps and nooks, small drinks of tangy sweet red filling his senses. Lucius watched him the entire time, hissing softly, eventually crouching down to make sure Harry got every bit.

“Right here,” Lucius whispered, pressing Harry’s face to the side by his chin. Harry tried to lick the man’s fingers but Lucius pulled away, tsking softly. “Bad… Don’t make me put something else there for you to clean.”

Harry whimpered, having a fair idea what that something else might be. God, he was so hard. He let Lucius lead him by the chin, lapping slow, long swats along the floor, moaning at each soft touch of fingers and hard feel of floor. Harry was gasping by the time he had gotten it all, sweat slicking his hair to his face and dripping down his stomach. He was so hard he was certain he was going to come any second. Neck aching from holding it at the awkward angle, he rested his head on the floor, cheek sticking slightly from his own saliva.

“You’re not done, brat,” Lucius said huskily, running his hand through Harry’s wet hair. “Do you see all those spots you missed? I want you to get them all. Slowly. Moving on your knees.”

Hell. Lucius made everything sound fucking sexy. Harry nodded weakly, licking his swollen lips. His jaw was aching but no splinters just yet. Whimpering, he struggled to get himself back onto his knees, rocking on his shoulder, his legs sore, thighs tight and cramped from the position. Damn, why was this so hot? Lucius was inches from him, watching everything he did, fingers brushing the softest of touches to his back and legs. Every little whisper of contact startled Harry and made him want so much more.

Harry tried to make his way over to the nearest cluster of red, his knees slipping on the floor from all his sweat. He tipped forward, nearly smacking his forehead on the ground, but Lucius caught him by the shoulder. “Oh, fuck,” Harry gasped, Lucius suddenly settling behind him, body heat and fabric ghosting over his entire back, trapped arms, ass and thighs, hovering but not pressing. Lucius’s long hair brushed silkily down his neck and shoulders, the man whispering in his ear lowly.

“Shall I show mercy, my little hellion?”

Harry shuddered, wondering if it was possible to come just from someone purring in your ear. It would be so easy for Lucius to fuck him like this. Bent over. Tied up. “Lucius… My god, I’m aching… I’m so hard.”

Breathing deeply, the man pressed a slow, chaste kiss to Harry’s neck. “I told you, didn’t I? Suffering.”

Harry groaned loudly, arching his head back, willing Lucius to nip, and suck, and lick like he was good at. The man didn’t, stubbornly pressing another soft kiss to his flesh. “Please… please touch me,” Harry begged, his entire body trembling at the very thought.

“That sounds like a reward,” Lucius drawled, his voice strained. “I don’t think you’ve earned a reward.”

“Okay… Shit, okay… How do I—Hell, how are you doing this to me?” Harry whimpered, trying to figure out how the man had switched things around so quickly. Less than twenty minutes ago Lucius was giving him shit for cleaning the kitchen floor with his hands. Now Harry was doing his best not to cum all over the study floor because he was certain he’d be forced to lick that up too. Harry groaned, putting his weight on his forehead, hips jerking forward. God, he’d probably like it.

“Sit up straight,” Lucius ordered, sitting back. “Turn around.”

Anticipation building, Harry sat up unsteadily, his legs burning from holding the cramped position. He bit down on his lip hard when Lucius finally came into view, the man’s expression intense and consuming. “How do I earn a reward?” Harry asked, wanting it so badly he didn’t care what he said as long as Lucius touched him.

“I’ve been watching you,” Lucius said, eyes moving over Harry hungrily. “Licking my floor like some degenerate. You’re not sorry at all for what you’ve done.”

Harry couldn’t help it; he was grinning like a loon and he knew it. “Oh, I’m totally sorry.”

Lucius shook his head, lips parting, tongue wetting slowly. “I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson, Potter.”

Harry shuddered, his entire body rocketing. Lucius was fucked. Harry had a feeling he’d be bleeding all over this study every goddamn day if it got Lucius to say sexy, messed up things like that to him. He wiggled closer on the floor, his bare knees just touching against Lucius’s clothed ones. “Tell me what I have to do,” he rasped out, not sure he’d refuse anything at that moment.

Ghosting his fingers ever so lightly over Harry’s face, Lucius suddenly gripped his jaw firmly. Eyes widening, Harry did not fight when he was forcefully pulled down, body bent forward, knees sliding further apart until the top of his head was pressing into Lucius’s crisp white shirt and hard stomach. The sound of the man’s zipper was the loudest thing Harry had ever heard in his entire life.

“Oh my god…” Harry whispered breathlessly.

Lucius pushed aside the fabric of his slacks and then underwear. Harry groaned when his erection came into view; large, thick and inches from his face. There was just the faintest of beading of precum on the dusky red tip. Harry stretched his tongue, whimpering when he realized he couldn’t quite reach.

“Go slow,” Lucius ordered, fingers lighting ever so gently on the back of Harry’s neck.

Harry rubbed his head against Lucius’s flat stomach, bracing himself as best he could while sinking lower, shoulders and chest resting on the man’s strong thighs. The divided zipper was sharp against Harry’s chin, fabric rough on his neck and face. The silken flesh of Lucius’s cock was hot and slightly damp as it brushed against his lips. Lucius made a soft rumble when Harry began to kiss the hard flesh and taste lightly with his tongue. “Yes… Just like that.”

Letting his cheek rest on the pant clad thigh, Harry began to trace his tongue out, trembling up over the smooth column of flesh, seeking out every flowing contour, rough ridge. He was drawn up, seeking the tasty little bead of wet in the center of Lucius’s slit. Rising up, Harry fixated on the tight indent, wiggling his tongue, pulling the flushed head up against his swollen lips and sucking, urging more leaking drops of precum to flow. Lucius suddenly grabbed him by the hair, pulling him back and hissing lowly. Harry moaned, watching the man’s cock twitch, wondering just how close Lucius was to coming all over him.

“I said slow, you little demon.” Lucius relaxed his grip, Harry looking up and meeting the man’s gaze. Lucius had a familiar, near breaking look in his burning eyes that made Harry weak. It made him want to do nasty, naughty things just to get Lucius to lose all control and fuck him. Harry reached his tongue out, Lucius growling with molten eyes still fixed on his. Slowly he connected with Lucius’s swaying length, lapping a long line up to the very tip, tongue immediately dipping into the sensitive slit and seeking the fluid leaking there. “Harry.” Lucius groaned, expression pained, breath suddenly coming out in harsh pants.

Harry had to close his eyes, afraid seeing Lucius so undone was going to keep him from his goal of tormenting the man. He opened his sore jaw wide and took his thick cock into his mouth. He felt the weight of it, the ridges on his slick lips, the thrum of blood running through the underside when he pressed his tongue in caressing strokes. His neck ached from having to hold himself up but Harry didn’t stop, opening wider, feeling the hard flesh touch the roof of his mouth, then back against his tonsils. Saliva was building, gravity pulling it down to glisten and stream clear fluid around Lucius’s hard dick and disappear into his blond pubic hair and briefs pulled only inches below.

Harry rocked, bobbing the straining head against his tonsils in rhythmic jolts, gasping for breath around the thick length. His nipples were raw, zapping from the friction of fabric as he braced himself on Lucius’s lap and took more of the man’s length into his mouth, daring to swallow further. Harry felt so hot, so wild knowing Lucius was hard just because of him. He wanted to make the man come, wanted to feel the large flesh swell and spurt into his hot mouth.

It was getting too hard to breathe and Harry had to pull away before he choked on his own saliva. Groaning, he tried to push himself up, breathing heavily, his muscles shaking from the exertion of not having his arms to help. Lucius’s large hands were suddenly pulling him up and forward, dragging Harry into a wild, forceful kiss. There was a snap and Harry’s wrists were loose, aching and tingling. Feeling heavy limbed and sore, Harry didn’t resist when Lucius pulled him into his lap, wrapping him around the man like a limp rag-doll while suffocating his already overwhelmed form with persistent, hot kisses over his face and neck.

Harry whimpered, feeling a rush of magic zipping through his entrance and deep into his passage. Lucius’s fingers quickly followed, plunging in mercilessly, stretching his lubricated hole with two wide digits. Gaping silent, Harry clung to the man, his body jerking with need. “Oh hell…” God, Lucius was going to fuck him again. Sink into him and fill him so deep.

Harry grasped shaking fingers into the man’s shirt, tearing at it, wanting the connection of sweaty skin. The buttons flew off, a loud ripping sound tearing that Lucius echoed with a growl in his ear. Harry quickly pushed Lucius’s undershirt up, hands pulling roughly at the man’s pale flesh, catching on scars that hadn’t been hidden away this time. He bit Lucius’s neck, growling when the blond hissed and jerked from the pain, fingers stopping their torment of Harry’s entrance to hold him steady. Harry clung tighter, wrapping his thighs around the twitching muscles of Lucius’s waist, wanting to climb the powerful man and press together until there was no space left between the two of them.

Lucius fell backwards with a snarl. Elbows knocking on the floor, he turned them both and pinned Harry flat on his back beneath his larger body, Harry’s slender wrists caught between his strong fingers. Dazed, Harry gaped up at him. “Fuck.” Death, destruction and absolute need glared down at him. All for him. Harry wet his lips slowly, watching Lucius’s eyes follow the movement like a white tiger watching a teasing mouse. Breathing deep, he ran his leg higher, catching Lucius’s slacks by the pocket with his foot and pushing them down the man’s muscular thighs.

“Come on, you fucking crazy, sexy man.” Harry whispered, swallowing hard. “Punish me.”

Burning silver eyes narrowing, Harry was given no other warning, suddenly twisted face first on the floor, ass and thighs pushed up and eclipsed by Lucius’s hot, hard body. “Oh fuck—Lucius!” He cried out, the man plunging the head of his cock into his entrance, holding there while Harry gaped and heaved for air. “Oh my god… oh god, don’t stop,” Harry pleaded when Lucius continued to hold still. “It’s good—Really, really good!”

Lucius, muscles tight with restraint, shifted forward achingly slow, mouth finding Harry’s ear. “Do you regret it yet?”

Harry, eyes squeezed shut, breath coming out in blasts, had no idea what the man was asking. “W-What?”
“Bleeding… on my study floor,” Lucius prompted breathlessly, jolting forward while holding Harry’s hips and sinking in another agonizing inch.

It took everything Harry had not to laugh. The man was out of his mind. “Punish me some more… and I’ll tell you,” he promised, pushing back against Lucius’s hot weight. Lucius growled, surging forward the rest of the way inside Harry’s clenching flesh, burying himself in deep and pulling a loud cry from the boy.

Moaning lowly, Harry relaxed against the hard floor, Lucius’s weight grounding and electric all at the same time. He was stretched so wide, his hole feeling warm, like he was dripping with honey on the inside. “Oh god… yes… do it,” he pleaded, feeling Lucius shift, getting ready to move. Tongue licking over Harry’s neck, teeth nipping sharply, Lucius teased him with slow, gentle pumps of his hips. He rocked aching, smooth thrusts into Harry’s hot flesh, filling the boy deep, pulling back and doing it again. It was maddeningly slow, gentleness tempered only by the pain in Harry’s forearms, hips and knees as he was fucked hot and sweaty into the unyielding hardwood floor of the study.

“Suffering… remember?” Lucius panted roughly in Harry’s ear, nipping him again and leaving the brunette’s skin tingling. Harry would have laughed between his cries, but he was suffering. His entire body was aching for completion, feeling no more than a puddle of want, he was that completely overwhelmed by Lucius’s heavy form and thick cock. Lucius’s powerful body moved over him, muscles rippling against Harry’s sweat-soak back and thighs as he delved into him with sure, long strokes. Pinned beneath the man and unbearably full, Harry released aching moans, all his focus given to the hot friction on his channel walls and between his tight cheeks as Lucius’s thick flesh moved relentlessly inside him.

“Please… god, Lucius… please,” Harry mumbled, barely able to form thoughts, never mind sentences anymore.

“What do you want, brat?” Lucius asked, mouth pressed to Harry’s ear while he breathed. “Harder?”

“Yes,” Harry begged, moaning again, Lucius burying deep.

“Faster?” Lucius continued, as if Harry hadn’t answered desperately already.

“God, yes… Lucius please,” Harry groaned, mouth falling open, head slumping forward on the floor.

Lucius pumped slower. “More, little hellion? Did you want more?” Lucius taunted, teeth again nipping into Harry’s throat. “Do you deserve more… after bleeding on my floor?”

Moaning loudly, Harry realized the man’s game too late. “Oh hell… have some fucking mercy.”

Lucius chuckled, a low dark rumbled against Harry’s shoulders and back. “No.”

Harry whined low in his throat, his entire body tingling with the realization that Lucius was more than happy to let him suffer. The man was a monster… A fucking tormenting, delicious monster that made him so hard he couldn’t think straight… “Oh fuck… Fine… I’m sorry,” he muttered between gasping cries. “S-Sorry.”

“Oh, I can tell… I just don’t know if I care,” Lucius whispered, lips pressing lightly to Harry’s shoulder, tongue flicking out to lap the salty flavor of his flesh. He thrust into the boy again, grunting at how tight Harry clenched around him. “You beg so nicely… Cries so sweet… I love to hear you suffer… I should tie you back up… and have you beg me to fuck you harder.”

Harry gaped, his vision going dim for a moment. “My god, that’s hot… You are… a very bad man.”

Lucius smirked into Harry’s skin, teeth sinking in soon after. “Beg me, demon. Beg me to let you come.”

Harry half laughed, half moaned, his body shaking uncontrollably. “Please, Lucius… Fucking please let me come.”

Lucius hummed softly, sucking a small welt into Harry’s neck. “I’ll think about it.”

“Fucking… damn!” Harry cried in frustration. God, he was so close. So fucking hard for too long, and close, and he just needed that last aching bit to get there. “Oh… oh god… okay… you just do that,” he mumbled, Lucius suddenly pulling them both up, Harry forced onto his knees, head still firmly on the floor. Lucius drove forward hard, Harry sobbing as his prostate was slammed into. “Fuck!”

Lucius growled in agreement, repeating the motion and burying in as deep as he could go. He curled around the boy’s back, Harry clenching, trying to keep him in, trying to hold him still. “Hell, Harry,” he groaned, pushing forward while Harry pressed back, the boy making whimpering, desperate cries, so close he was quivering inside and out. Taking mercy on the hellion, Lucius wrapped his hand around the boy’s achingly hard length and pumped firmly.

Harry came with an explosion of breath, his orgasm tearing through him so powerfully it was almost painful. He shuddered as spasm after spasm rocked his body, his cum splattering the floor in long, white streams. “Hell… oh hell.” He closed his eyes, Lucius grunting in his ear, the man releasing into his clenching passage almost silently.

Insane… Lucius was going to drive him insane.

Harry collapsed back on the floor, face tilted to the side, eyes open and unseeing while he panted. Lucius settled carefully on top of him, rubbing in slow thrusts against his tight rear, placing soft kisses to his shaking flesh while they both calmed and cooled their heated flesh.

SCENE #An invitation

The blood was still spotting the floor but Lucius didn’t seem very interested in it. He had sprawled out next to Harry on the hardwood floor, arm over the boy’s back, leg hooking over his knees. ‘Punishing’ Harry had knocked the man out, not that Harry had faired much better. Half dressed, a complete mess, and utterly satisfied, Harry was certain the man had never been more attractive.

He glanced up when Lucius kissed his cheek, meeting the slightly hazy gray eyes. “Did I do okay?” Harry asked weakly, eyebrows wagging in question. Lucius gave him a look that suggested he was going to start ranting about his study floor again, so Harry added quickly, “The blowjob. Was I any good?”

Blinking, Lucius suddenly broke out into a eye-blindingly bright smile and kissed Harry’s cheek again. Heart pounding in his ears, Harry did his best not to blush to death. “You were amazing,” Lucius murmured, tongue tickling down Harry’s jaw. “Eager… shameless… extremely sexy… You have a wonderful mouth.” He licked Harry’s lips, anxious to show him how wonderful it was.

“Oh good,” Harry said breathlessly, rocking his hips back and enjoying how his muscles ached. “I want to be good at that… I want you to… you know… not grow tired of me.”

Lucius raised a brow, resting his head on the floor so that they were eye to eye. “You might tire me out, Harry, but I doubt I’ll grow tired of you.”

Harry blushed, shrugging self-consciously. “I dunno… I’m sure you’ve had plenty of experienced lovers and all.”

“I do believe you think I’m a rogue,” Lucius teased, running his thumb over the boy’s lips. “Just some caddish knave that would be under the next hideous, hole riddled shirt I see. Apparently I have not made any sort of honorable impression on you at all.” Lucius gave another beautiful smile, Harry forced to gape and stare, face turning completely red now.

“You’re a funny guy, Lucius. Crazy,” Harry whispered, “but pretty damn funny at times.”

Lucius tilted his head in mild agreement, eyes running over Harry’s face thoughtfully. Harry couldn’t help but return the gaze, trying to memorize the man in that moment, normally soft hair slick with sweat, pale eyes tinted slightly blue, lips just on the edge of another searing, stomach tightening smile. Lucius was gorgeous. And Harry felt safe to be himself around him, even when he didn’t always feel safe to be himself alone.

“I wanted to tell you something,” Lucius said suddenly, his voice low. “Or, at least, offer you something. An option.”

Harry waited, rocking his shoulder for a better position on the floor.

“I was hoping you’d stay with me at the manor… But if not, I was going to offer to help you find a place…” Lucius trailed off, looking uncertain.

Brows furrowed, Harry continued to wait. He had never seen Lucius skitter before, eyes glancing over to him and then down, but it was decidedly interesting to watch.

“You’re going to need a tutor. Because Albus has…”

Ah. “Kicked out?” Harry asked quietly.

Lucius nodded, trying to read Harry’s expression. “But there are plenty of superb, private educators, and I thought I might take some initiative in your education. If you agreed.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry said after a moment, stretching and trying not to feel disappointed that he would never see Hogwarts again. “I mean, it could have been a lot worse, right? Jail… maybe even Azkaban… A tutor seems, well, a bit too good for what I’ve done.”

“It’s not,” Lucius said sincerely. “I know you don’t agree, but you deserve every good thing that comes your way. After today, you are exempt from everything that has happened at your relatives, with the only consequence being that Dumbledore will no longer allow you to complete your education at Hogwarts. Most assuredly from my interference and demand that he relent his hold on you, than anything you have done. No one knows what happened but the few of us, and it will remain so. To reveal this secret would be to destroy Albus. It will not be done.”

Biting his lip, Harry eventually nodded. He didn’t believe he should be so easily released from the consequences of his actions. But he also knew Lucius was a powerful force, one that seemed very determined to make sure he had some sort of life. Even though he had done an unspeakable thing.

“And I was hoping… Hoping you would stay here. With me. For as long as you wanted.” Harry blinked, focusing back on the man that had apparently still been talking.

“Really?” Harry asked, his throat feeling tight all of a sudden.

“Yes. There’s plenty of room.” Lucius leaned closer, fingers tangling in Harry’s hair. “I still have work, of course, but your days would be full anyways with studies… But we could share our mornings together, and our evenings… Share our days… And there is always the weekends… I would really enjoy taking you on that date we had planned, and many more.”

Harry let his eyes close, Lucius’s voice washing over him like a calming purr. This was very much a dream. A perfect dream following a terrible nightmare. Harry would wait to see if he woke up, gasping in the dark, possibly back in the cupboard once again. But for now he was determined to enjoy this very amazing dream.

“I’d like that, Lucius. I’d like to stay here with you.” Harry opened his eyes just in time for another breathtaking smile from the handsome blond. His heart tripped dangerously but it was nothing Harry couldn’t handle. Instead he returned Lucius’s broad smile with one of his own, leaned the rest of the way forward and kissed the man. The kiss was sweet and full of promise. It was very solid in that moment, giving Harry hope that he was actually awake and would remain so.

SCENE #School’s start

“Tell them my headaches have just gotten worse.”

“I’m not telling them that. They’ll think you’re hearing voices or something,” Draco snapped.

Harry shrugged. “They already think I’m nuts. It would be more believable than me living at your place the school term.”

“Owl them! They’re your friends,” Draco said with a frustrated growl. “I don’t want to be hounded all year with questions.”

“No one is going to care,” Harry said flatly, leaning back on Draco’s bed, propped on his arms. “I don’t care what you tell them. Hell—Tell them I killed my relatives. Why the hell not?”

Glaring, Draco considered shoving his stubborn friend, then thought better of it. “You should come to the station. They’ll want to see you. Blaise and Pansy have been asking about you, and I’m sure all your Gryffindor idiots have missed you too.”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t have anything to say to anyone. Just go already.”

Draco sighed, folding his arms. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I won’t be seeing you till winter break and I’m not leaving you here to mope the whole damn time.”

Harry rolled his eyes but didn’t interrupt.

“Your relatives brought it on themselves—Quiet!” Draco glared warningly when Harry opened his mouth to loudly disagree. “No, they didn’t deserve to die, especially in such a terrible way. But they brought it on themselves. When you disrespect the basic laws of power, you get burned. First damn thing we learned in school.”

“They were muggles,” Harry muttered. “They would have never learned anything like that.”

Draco wasn’t impressed. “This isn’t a magic rule, this is a life rule. You don’t play with fire. Don’t go swimming with sharks. Don’t go walking out in the dark when you know monsters are hunting. They knew enough about what you are to be terrified, but they didn’t listen to that fear. They attacked you and lost. They ignored the laws of power and didn’t survive the consequences. Not the first and not the last fools to do it, but it’s always the same end result. Stop holding onto it.”

Harry didn’t say anything, staring up at the ceiling instead. He didn’t want to feel better about what he had done. Somehow it belittled the Dursley’s lives. Weeks later, he had decided that he would try to move forward as best he could after the Dursleys’ deaths. That involved throwing himself into his studies and figuring out what he wanted to do once he graduated. Part of that agreement with himself was that he could never forget the Dursleys and what he had done. So he would never do it again. So the family lived still, if only in his memory.

“Tell them I got expelled for turning Snape’s hair pink,” Harry said eventually.

Draco huffed. He had said what he wanted to say and Harry, as usual, had ignored him. “Write me. All the bloody time. You have no excuse, seeing as there’s no one here to bother… Quiet.” Draco grumbled when Harry gave him a rakish grin. “Gross. Freak’n hate you. Do not write me about my father, understand?”

“Not a problem. Now go before you miss the train,” Harry said, getting up and letting Draco hug him goodbye.

“You’re going to miss me,” Draco said knowingly. Harry shrugged. He probably would. Studying all day alone would likely be boring, tutor or not.

“Hot pink. Neon hot pink hair. Don’t forget.” If Harry wasn’t going back, it should be for something infamous.

Smirking, Draco nodded, turning to go. He paused, eyes narrowing as he looked back over his shoulder. “What’s with the baseball bat?”

Harry looked down, staring at the wooden bat he was holding loosely in his hand. He raised a brow, his wicked grin returning. “Pretty sure you don’t want to know.”

Draco scrunched his nose, shaking his head in disgust. “You two are depraved.” He escaped, Harry snickering behind him.

SCENE #Narcissa

The platform for the Hogwarts Express was just starting to clear of the roaming students and clinging parents when Lucius, Draco saying his final farewells, noticed Narcissa. She was standing just out of sight, waiting expectantly as if she hadn’t off and disappeared one afternoon with a succinct note and all her things. Lucius felt Draco stiffen, knowing the boy had found her as well.

“She hasn’t seen you in months,” Lucius said calmly, Draco rocking on his heels in indecision. “You must have something to say to each other.”

Biting his lip, Draco nodded, making his way over to his mother to talk. Lucius watched, eyes straying through the train station, making sure Bellatrix wasn’t hiding around some dark corner looking to make his life a living hell. Everything looked innocent enough, Narcissa a bit stiff as she talked with her son—Not completely new. She had struggled to bond with her only child. Likely the side effect of an arranged marriage and her own detached parents.

Draco gave Lucius a brief parting wave before getting on the train, his white blond hair disappearing from view. Narcissa remained, petite and stiff, looking the same as ever, if not a bit tired. Lucius waited, wondering how long it would take her to get up the nerve. A good four minutes, it turned out, Narcissa eventually sighing and walking up, standing at his side as if she had just been off with friends for a moment and not months away.

“I thought it would be good to see him off. It’s his last year and I’ve never missed a turn seeing him away to school.” Narcissa spoke softly, her voice lighter than Lucius remembered.

Lucius nodded, remaining silent. He was hardly going to argue her rights in seeing Draco off to school. As for more extended contact, Lucius had a lot to say, but he did not think Narcissa was interested in gaining custody of their son.

“You look nice, Lucius. Almost… informal,” Narcissa said carefully, her thin eyebrow raised as she took in Lucius’s casual attire. Leather boots, formfitting pants, collarless shirt, hair loose; Lucius was probably the most under-dressed he had ever been walking outside his manor. Harry had been insistent, wanting the man to be relaxed at home and not always in work mode. The mix of envious and lustful looks sent his way that day had only confirmed that his young lover’s tastes were shared. Poor Pansy had nearly fainted when seeing him.

“I thought a change was in order,” Lucius finally said. “That’s why you left, correct? Things just never changed.”

“Yes.” Narcissa sighed, turning to face him, her stance more relaxed. “Here I was worried I had… Oh, I don’t know. My father never would have made it a week without my mother. He was so dependent on her. You were never like him though, were you? Always quick to adapt and come out on top. You shouldered the things that crippled him with ease.”

“We all have our strengths.” Narcissa’s father had been weak through and through, and Lucius had held little respect for the man. “How has your muggle hunting been?” He asked, watching her flinch.

“Eventful… Not as satisfying as I remembered it to be.” Narcissa gave a terse smile. “Bella still has such passion, but it’s difficult to keep up with her. I had thought… I had thought maybe she was hiding him away. Like she knew something the rest of us didn’t and he would rise again.” She shrugged, lips pursed. “Still, it keeps me busy.”

Voldemort was truly gone then, never to bother Harry again. Lucius kept his face schooled, not willing to show his relief. She could be lying but he knew Narcissa wasn’t. They had confided in each other from the very beginning. No boundaries, no lies, less suffering. They had both grown up as pawns to powerful parents. Even if there was no physical love, there had been a level of camaraderie. Narcissa had liked the structure Riddle offered the world. Lucius had seen it as a lie, just the ravings of a madman that could not face his past.

“You look well,” Lucius said, not having much else to say.

Narcissa waved her hand dismissively. “I look ill. Hardly brimming with the healthy glow you’re exuding. I’m glad to see my leaving has helped you, if it has done anything.” Narcissa gave him a calculating look, lips quirking in a small smile. “I do believe you have a laugh line. That was not there when I left.”

Lucius glared at her, completely scandalized. “I do not.”

“Yes, you do. You’ve been smiling.” She frowned, looking away as if the very idea was upsetting. “I wish to send Draco a gift this Christmas. I thought it would be best to ask you first.”

“Nothing questionable, I trust?” Lucius asked, not trusting Narcissa at all that she would be careful with her own son. She had run off without saying a word to him.

“No, of course not. Just some things of my father’s.” She looked sad again and Lucius wondered if she was bothering to fight her illness or had just relented, like Narcissa had done with so many things in her life. “I should be off,” she said softly, stepping away. “It was good to see you, Lucius… Even with your laugh line.”

Lucius scowled as she walked away, running fingers absentmindedly over his face. Smiling… How absurd. He did not smile. Smirk, at most. Laugh? Never.

SCENE #The return of the shirt

Mind caught on his brief conversation with Narcissa, Lucius did not notice immediately what was wrong when he stepped into his manor. At first glance everything seemed normal, well except for Harry. The boy was sitting on the main stairs, hunched over, something long laid out at his bare feet. Lucius blinked, covering his eyes with his hands. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“You’re back,” Harry said, standing smoothly.

“Potter… I burned that monstrosity. I know I did.” Lucius dared a glance, quickly squinting as the neon orange shirt from hell filled his vision.

“Actually, you didn’t,” Harry said cheerfully, walking down the steps. “I had lost it, mixed up with a sheet under the bed. Only found it a couple of days ago, and was just waiting for the right moment…”

“To blind me?” Lucius growled. “Drive me insane with the damn glow of it?”

Harry smirked, stopping a few feet from Lucius’s form. “Maybe. You really do dislike this shirt.”

“It’s hideous. It barely fits you, covered in holes—the color is atrocious—”

“Yup. So what are you going to do about it?” Harry asked, smiling brightly while swinging left and right as he stood.

“Do about it?” Lucius asked, wishing the boy would stand still because the bloody shirt was distractingly dizzying while in motion.

Harry smiled wider, tongue running over his teeth for an instant. “Let me rephrase that. What are you going to do to me?” He asked, voice low and suggestive.

Lucius was baffled that the little fool thought he was somehow going to get anything good out of that shirt. He could barely see, the damn thing burning so. Harry had to be mad to think he would want to even look at him while wearing the terrible thing.

Watching Lucius’s thoughts flicker around his pained expression, Harry brought the hand he had been hiding behind his back now in front of him. “This is a baseball bat. Muggle. Simple, dull, basically a slab of wood.”

Lucius glared between his fingers. “I know what a baseball bat is.”

“Good. Then you know what it can do,” Harry said brightly. And with that he walked away, dragging the bat on the floor behind him.

Lucius sighed, Harry’s departure relief for his addled senses. That damn shirt. He needed to burn the thing. That Harry could wear it, the clearly blind, daft pain in the ass, was beyond him. Lucius could barely look at it, especially after having weeks of respite from the horrible—

There was a loud crash, Lucius snapping his head up to glare down the hall. He snarled, Harry and his damn shirt peeking out from the kitchen. “Potter! Stop destroying my house.”

And give up that fucking shirt so I can burn it into a million specks of ash and bury it in the rosebush. No, the backyard—The remains would surely kill the roses.

Harry smirked, wagging his eyebrows. “Make me!” He ducked back into the kitchen, the sound of something heavy slamming into the sound of something delicate and china ringing out.

Harry looked around the kitchen critically, swinging the bat in his careless grip. He knocked over the ceramic canisters—Usually cutesy and animal shaped, but Lucius had managed to find elegant and now very broken ones. He smashed in the faucet next, snickering when it bent downwards and dented into the basin. Eyes bright, Harry turned towards Draco’s coffeemaker. It was shiny, high tech, and had no right being in a damn wizard’s kitchen anyways. He wound the bat to his shoulder, smiling gleefully as he swung. Only to yelp, pulled backwards by his grip, Lucius glaring down at him.

“Calamitous, destructive hell-spawn!” Lucius snarled, taking the bat from Harry’s hand and whipping it across the room. Harry’s gaze followed, watching as the baseball bat took out the glass faced cupboard Lucius kept him more expensive flatware in. Harry hadn’t even thought of that and was very impressed.

“Problem, Mr. Malfoy?” Harry asked innocently while Lucius went through what could only be called his ‘murderous’ expressions. The man had more than a few, all of them quite spectacular on his aristocratic features. “I was looking for the tea. Couldn’t seem to find it. Tea calms you down, right?”

“Nothing is going to—Tea? Tea? You lying, maddening, damn lunatic! I’m going to—”

Harry whirled in Lucius’s arms, pushing the spluttering man up against the wall. “What?” Harry asked breathlessly, eyes gleaming with fire. “Punish me?”

Lucius paused, taking in Harry’s flushed face and hungry eyes. The boy licked his lips, drawing the man’s silver gaze down to the very red pout that absolutely deserved punishment. But then Lucius’s eyes fell lower and he squinted, the damn orange t-shirt blaring at him. “I’m going to burn that monstrous shirt. Possibly you, if you insist on wearing it while I’m burning it.”

Harry reached his hand down to Lucius’s pants, wiggling his fingers until he found the concealed pocket most wizarding clothing had to hold their wand. He slipped Lucius’s wand free, staring the man in the eye while placing the slender instrument in his grasp. “Do it.”

“Do you think I’m bluffing?” Lucius asked, his heart faltering and then beating faster, something in the boy’s expression making him feel wild. Crazy. He tightened his grip on his wand, watching Harry’s eyes follow the tip of it.

“Come on,” Harry whispered, the wand now inches from his shoulder. “Burn my clothes off.”

Hissing, Lucius grabbed the back of Harry’s neck with his free hand, forcing the boy to meet his gaze again. Harry’s brilliant green eyes were glowing, full of lust, anticipation, and consuming hellfire. It was like staring into the abyss, Lucius’s stomach plummeting, mouth going dry, cock hardening. “You’re a maniac,” Lucius rasped, his voice full of awe.

“You’re a crazy person. It works out well.” Harry wrapped his hand around Lucius’s wrist, pulling the wand closer until it was touching his collar. “I bet you could put a hole in my shirt without even burning me.”

Lucius swallowed, not a hundred percent certain he could. The control it would take, the absolute precision to burn fabric but not the flesh it was resting on… “Harry, this is—”

“You know you want to try,” Harry interrupted, lips brushing lightly to the stubble on Lucius’s jaw. “Do I have to beg? Beg you to burn me? Beg you to punish me?”

Lucius wondered dimly if he had damaged the gorgeous young man weeks ago when forcing Harry to lick his floor. He carefully pushed Harry back, the boy staring but making no move to resist. Doing his best to ignore the migraine that was threatening when being faced with the day glow orange nightmare of a shirt, Lucius placed Harry’s arms behind his back and then bound them together with a spell. Harry almost immediately began to pant, back arching, eyelids lowering. The boy was beautiful.

“Do not move,” Lucius warned, Harry whimpering in reply. “Do not breathe. Stay absolutely still.” Giving the boy a moment to get himself under control, Lucius brought his wand up to the center of Harry’s chest. Breathing deeply, he picked a different spot, the shoulder, just in case he ended up burning the little hellion. They both watched, fascinated, as a small tendril of smoke appeared, followed by an ember only slightly brighter than the burning orange material. Black char suddenly circled out, racing over Harry’s shoulder in a smooth ripple, revealing perfect tanned flesh beneath.

Lucius pulled his wand back, touching down to the other sleeve, listening to the boy gasp. “Be still,” he murmured, surprised by the sound of his own voice, his mouth dry, jaw tense. He repeated the spell on Harry’s other shoulder, the short sleeve hanging loose afterwards. The next hole disconnected the collar from the destroyed sleeve. The two holes after that he flowed down the seam on Harry’s side, the hem finally breaking way.

Silently tucking his wand away, Lucius met Harry’s wide eyed gaze. With a brusque motion he tore the shirt from the boy’s form, the shreds hanging off the first shoulder breaking free with a rip. He threw the damn thing to the floor, vowing to destroy it later once he had dealt with the now shirtless, gasping thing in front of him. Just what the hell was he going to do to the damn brat?

“L-Lucius?” Harry whispered, breathless, lips swollen and wet from his constant, nervous gnawing.

“What, demon?” Lucius asked, fingers ghosting ever so softly over the boy’s mouth.

Harry’s eyes drifted down, staring at his hand. “If I… um… got on the floor right now… bent over… w-would you take me?”

Inhaling sharply, Lucius let his gaze wander to the glass and ceramic riddled kitchen floor. He spelled the mess clean, then pulled Harry forward by his chin. “Is that what you want? While you’re still tied up?”

Green eyes searing into him, Harry nodded, pressing closer until his face was resting against Lucius’s neck. “Please.”

Shuddering from the feel of Harry’s breathing such a sweet, yet naughty word into his flesh, Lucius smiled, bright, happy and completely unaware. “I’ll think about it,” he murmured, hands seeking out the boy’s jeans and unbuttoning them.

SCENE #His favorite hellion

Lying in bed, Harry peered over to the man breathing evenly beside him. Dawn was filtering in through the windows, tinting everything a cool yellow. He had woken up early, but not from a nightmare. No, Harry woke up early now because he liked to be able to wrap around Lucius while the man still slept, enjoying the warmth of his skin, the comfort of his presence while waiting for the eventuality of the blond’s arms to tighten and hold him closer.

Harry hadn’t had a panic attack since the Dursleys. There had been a moment, once, Lucius smiling ever so brightly at him while they were strolling together the night of their first date. Harry had been certain that his breathing was going off kilter, just on the verge of lost completely. But he had stopped, shut his eyes, and very calmly asked himself what the hell was wrong with him. Apparently liking someone that liked him back was very difficult on his body. Especially when he kept thinking he might more than like Lucius. Maybe actually love. It seemed worth the risk and Harry had been able to calm down and enjoy the rest of their evening, smiles and all.

Wiggling underneath Lucius’s arm, Harry pressed his back to the man’s side, eyes lingering on the dark mark barely visible. The tutors were very good. Harry was probably learning more now than at Hogwarts, no longer competing with a room full of students for attention and focus. He was lonely at times, but he had always been good at entertaining himself. Hermione and Ron had written, and he had given them a very bland and edited account of where he was and less of why. Harry planned to visit the Weasleys Christmas Eve and explain thing properly then.

He was less ashamed of what he had done that night at the Dursleys the more he learned control. The less he feared he might do it again, the more he could accept how he had needed to do it the first time.

Harry didn’t think much of the Dursleys either. He felt safe in Malfoy Manor, safer than he had ever felt anywhere before. Even Hogwarts had held the promise of returning to the Dursleys. But here… Harry was certain Lucius would hex anyone that even suggested he had to leave, if not outright kill. And until Harry was of age, he was more than happy for it. Afterwards, he hoped he wouldn’t depend on the man to be quite so ruthless in his safekeeping. There was something very sexy about it, though, and Harry felt he might not complain.

Burrowing further, eyes still alight on the strange, faded mark on Lucius’s arm, Harry pressed his face into it, smelling the man’s familiar scent. He lapped his tongue out, then latched on, sucking onto Lucius’s flesh until a lovely purple welt formed.

“Biting… little… hellion.”

Harry had not been biting but did so now just so Lucius would not be a liar as well as a crazy person. He smiled when he was suddenly pulled back, wrapped tight and warm in the man’s strong arms, Lucius’s chest pressing against his back. It was Saturday and Lucius was taking him hunting for the first time. Lucius had taunted that Harry would have to take a pack full just of healing charms, but Harry had a feeling he’d be fine. Especially with the blond there.

Eyebrow twitching, Lucius raised his arm up, looking at the hickey Harry had made right on top of the faded tattoo. Glancing Harry’s way, the boy shrugged, fingers touching his fine work.

“Means you’re mine now,” Harry whispered, feeling a little shy under that piercing silver gaze. Especially when the gaze became a familiar glare, Lucius’s nostrils flaring and jaw tightening slightly.

“Oh, really?” Lucius purred, still full of sleep and wonderful raspy goodness. Harry shivered from the sound, turning in the man’s arms so that they were facing each other.

“Well, I did bleed on you,” Harry reminded. He had actually bled on the man a lot of times since then, rarely on purpose. “We both know what it means when I bleed on—” Lucius cut him off with a hard kiss, crushing Harry into the mattress with his weight. Snickering, Harry let him, mouth quick to open to every tongue lashing the man wished to give.

“It seems I own the blue sitting room,” Lucius drawled between kisses to Harry’s neck, “And the west living room—Which I despise for all of my grandmother’s teacups… Oh, and the patio. I still own a patio in my own home.”

“I could probably take care of those teacups for you,” Harry offered, eyebrows wagging playfully.

Smiling brightly, Lucius suddenly got up, leaving Harry to follow with his eyes in dismay, panting heavily on the bed.

“Well?” Lucius said, riffling through his bureau for a pair of pants.

“Well, what?” Harry asked grumpily as he watched the man’s perfectly pale skin become covered in clothes. Yes the clothes were nicer than his work clothes but he had been hoping for sex.

“You’re not going to have enough time if you lie about.”

Sighing at Lucius being a crazy person, Harry sat up, hair sticking up on end. “It’s the weekend. There’s no reason to rush for…” He blinked, Lucius handing him his wand.

“Target practice. I believe you told me you were quite a good shot when things weren’t moving.” Lucius was smiling very brightly and Harry’s heart kept flipping from the sight. “Come on, Potter,” Lucius prodded, pulling the boy up by his arms. “Those teacups won’t break themselves.”

Oh. Harry grinned up at Lucius, taking in the man’s playful smirk. Ohhh…

Wand whirling deftly between his fingers, Harry didn’t bother looking for clothes. Lucius had a thing for him out of clothes just as much as in hideous ones. Harry was sure if he worked things right, he wouldn’t need them anyways.

END