The door wasn’t closed and Harry eyed it nervously.  Lucius smiled, as friendly and as false as ever, “I thought we would try taking breakfast downstairs this morning.  I’ve had the house elves set up a table in the atrium.  It’s lovely this time of year.”

Harry couldn’t think of what to say.  He imagined that he was biding his time until he could think of a way to escape, but in truth, he just wasn’t sure.  All he knew was that he was following Lucius down the hall to apparently have breakfast in an atrium, whatever that was.  The walls of the hallway were covered in dark, antique looking wall paper.  He touched it and it felt smooth, not wrinkled and crackled like he’d expected. Lucius continued to smile, “My ancestors built this home.  It was my great great great Uncle Malak who decorated this wing.”  He lowered his voice slightly as they passed a painting of a large, ugly looking witch with a black lip-hair, “He was the first of the Malfoy’s to split the Manor into two wings, one for himself and one for his wife, but she made him put her painting in it so that she could always keep a watch on him.  She was an ugly woman, but a brilliant witch.  None of us has ever been able to remove the bloody thing.”

Before he knew what he was doing, a laugh escaped.  He’d forgotten what it sounded like when he laughed, but the idea of Lucius Malfoy and himself walking amiably down a hall, sharing Malfoy family history was simply too much for him to take in.

The atrium really was lovely.  It was a large, circular room filled from top to bottom with plants of all kinds.  Some Harry recognised, some he didn’t, but he never doubted that they were all magical and that many were probably very deadly.  Breakfast had been set on a table in the very middle and consisted of two eggs over-easy and two slices of toast with butter, and jam in several flavours at the centre of the table.

After they had eaten, Lucius simply insisted on showing Harry around the Manor, making sure to point out that of course all doors and windows were warded against his escape, though he said it pleasantly enough, like he was stating a well known fact instead of a warning against attempts.  There was a large family dining room, which Lucius used only when Draco and Narcissa were there, a sitting room connected to a large library, a conservatory that was as sunny as the atrium, but with fewer flowers, a parlour that was neither flowery, nor sunny, but seemed somehow homier than the rest of the house.

By the time they made it back to his room, it was time for tea and Harry was exceptionally exhausted, not having spent this much time out of bed since before his capture.  It was a wonderful feeling and after a small cup of tea and a biscuit, he lay down and fell into a fitful sleep among the comforters, momentarily finding it easy to forget that he was still a captive.

____________________

Orwick had just been trapped by the muggle that he thought was responsible for stealing the expensive heirloom vase that held the spirit of a nasty poltergeist when Lucius announced that they were going to take a walk in the atrium.  It had become usual, over the past few days, for this sort of thing to happen and Harry had easily fallen into the routine.  At night he suffered from nightmares, but when he woke the next morning, Lucius chased them away with breakfast and conversation.  It was becoming... pleasant.

 It was evening as they strolled through the pathway.  The atrium was large and the walkways twisted and turned and there were so many exotic plants that Harry wished he could touch, but knew that he shouldn’t.  Malfoy had just finished telling him a story about his great Cousin Varius who accidentally burned himself at the stake when he was twenty when Harry, who was both horrified and amused at the idea, saw that look on his face.  It was the same look he’d seen on Voldemort’s face and on Greyback’s.

“I...”  He wanted to say that he wasn’t ready, please wait just a little longer, but it wouldn’t help, would it?  He should be thankful that he had gotten what he had.  Nearly two weeks of reprise from torture.

Lucius shook his head and put a hand out, touching Harry’s jaw with the tips of his fingers.  “I’m going to kiss you, Harry.”

Without waiting for a response, he pressed in, touching his lips to Harry’s softly, working them together until Harry opened his mouth instinctively and found a warm tongue against his own, massaging and moving just that much, just enough to make its presence known.  A betrayal of thought stole into Harry’s mind, only half finished, but hanging there, ‘If he were going to be gentle about it, then maybe...’

The thought was cut off as Lucius retreated, gazing at Harry’s flushed face with that smile and half-lidded eyes.  Harry groaned in frustration, both from having it taken away and from the realisation that he wanted it back.  “It’s a lie.  It’s all a lie.”

Lucius moved his thumb over Harry’s moist lips.  “And what if it is, does it really matter?”

Did it?

Harry didn’t have time to think further because Lucius was kissing him again.  When he finally pulled back this time, some indeterminable amount of time later, he straightened up and dropped his hand from Harry’s face.  “I assume that you know the way back to your room?”

Harry nodded, dazed and Lucius left.  Left him standing in the middle of the atrium with his mouth tasting like Lucius and his groin stirring with the unfamiliar tingle of arousal.

________________________

Harry had expected the kissing to lead to other things very quickly, but it didn’t.  Lucius seemed perfectly content to take him on walks around the manor and kiss him, very occasionally with the use of tongue.  Harry was deeply confused.  It was quite obvious from the tent in Lucius’ trousers that he wanted more, so why didn’t he take it?

To make matters worse, Harry’s own body had betrayed him entirely.  It had the nerve to become aroused when Lucius kissed him and sometimes even when they were just in close proximity.  Actually, he was having that exact problem while they were walking through the halls to the dining room for diner.

“The Ministry is entirely incompetent.  Not that I’m complaining, it makes my position much easier, but it’s embarrassing to the wizarding community at large.  Really, they seem to be under the impression that Gregory Gorfell is a Death Eater.  I don’t believe you know him, but I’ll assure you that it is more ridiculous than when they arrested Stan Shunpike.  This is why I support the Dark Lord, Harry.  If the Ministry even had a single brain between them, then we would hardly have been able to raise him, let alone bring him back to full power.”

 It was true.  Harry could hardly deny that the Ministry was made up of fools being run by even greater fools, but how was the Dark Lord any better than them?  He was a murderer.

“When everything is finally over and the country is being run with a firm hand, things will be much better.”

For who?  Of course, he knew better than to say it out loud.  When Lucius was ranting about the Ministry and the war, Harry tended to keep his mouth shut, listen and observe.  Maybe he could learn something that would be of use later.  Something that could help him escape.  Something that could save lives. Just something.

“Which reminds me, I have an attack to attend.”  Harry didn’t realise he had stopped walking until Lucius turned to look at him, still smiling as pleasantly as always.  “What’s the matter, Harry?  You look awfully pale.”

An attack.  Who were they attacking?

“You needn’t worry yourself over me.  It’s a very simple affair, really; a recruiting mission.”  He walked up to Harry and put a finger under his chin.  “A few well placed Cruciatus Curses, perhaps an Imperius and it’ll be over.  If we’re lucky, we won’t even have to kill anyone.”

Lucius kissed lightly him and took a step back, “Now, what was I saying?  Oh, yes, you’ll have to stay in your room while I’m out.  Usually I wouldn’t be...”

“Why are you doing this?”

Lucius raised an eyebrow, nonplussed by the interruption, “Mr. Fairwater has been very uncooperative as of recent.  All we want is a little inside information and he seems to think that being noble is going to get him somewhere.  Probably a Gryffindor...”

“No.  You... you toss around Cruciatus and the Imperius Curse like they were Accio.  You torture and kill without blinking an eye, but you won’t... I mean, it’s obvious you want me.  I can tell, but you just kiss me and... and why?  Why don’t you just take what you want?  I can hardly stop you.”  I don’t want to stop you.  But he didn’t say that, because it was admitting too much.

“Take?  I am a Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy in point of fact, and I do not have to take what I want, it is offered to me.  Now, no more silly questions.  If we’re to manage lunch before I leave, I daresay we should start.  It’s such a gloomy day out, why don’t we go to parlour and I’ll turn on some music.  Something seasonal.”

It was offered to him?  Did he expect Harry to offer himself to him?  He couldn’t possibly!  But there was what he had said that first day ‘I’d rather have you strong and willing’ and then there was the nagging, unwanted arousal in the pit of his stomach told him he very much could.  He told it to shut up and, much to his disappointment, it did.

_______________________

Voldemort had missed him.  Harry sat at the breakfast table in the atrium, listening to the Dark Lord speak with Lucius as if from a great distance.

“He has made progress.”

“Yes, my lord.  Though, I fear Fenrir did extensive damage to the boy’s sense of self-preservation.”

 “The werewolf has been dealt with.  Have you healed so quickly, love?”  Harry automatically turned towards the voice and his head throbbed.  He nodded, putting his napkin on the table next to his plate.  “I see what you mean, Lucius, he has indeed lost a great deal of that spirit that I admired.”

“Give me time, my lord.”

Voldemort’s mouth twitched upward in a smile and Harry fought back a shudder of pain as the fingers brushed against his cheek, “Take all the time you need, Lucius.  I do trust you.”

Then he left.  Harry hadn’t known what to think of that.  He’d expected a great many things when Voldemort walked into the room, proclaiming that he had missed Harry.  He’d expected to be fucked, at the least, probably for several hours.  He’d expected some kind of torture.  He had not expected the Dark Lord to question his recovery progress and then leave.

Lucius smiled at him and raised an elegant eyebrow, “Aren’t you hungry?”

Harry shook his head.  “No, I...  What does Voldemort want?”

“Now, Harry, that’s for him to know.  You’ll just have to trust that I have your best interests in mind.”

“You...” but he couldn’t finish it, because the idea was ludicrous.  Lucius had his best interests in mind?  Like hell!  Being let go was in his best bloody interest, not sitting around a manner waiting to be raped and tortured or worse.  He didn’t know what Voldemort was waiting for, didn’t know what he wanted, but he knew, above anything else, that Lucius was loyal to that monster and that whatever they had in store for Harry was not in his best interests.

Dabbing his face with a napkin, Lucius stood up, “Well, I have work to attend to.  You can find me in my study if you have need of me.”  He paused and then walked to Harry, cupping his face and kissing him full on the mouth, slipping his tongue inside for only a moment before pulling away and patting him on the head.

As Harry watched the blonde aristocrat walking off, something snapped inside him.  Without even thinking about it, he grabbed his half empty glass of orange juice and threw it at Lucius, watching in horror and triumph as it shattered on the wall next to his head, splattering him with pulp and shards of glass.  Oh, god, what had he done?

Lucius turned around and Harry backed up, tripping over his own feet and gripping the back of his chair to keep himself standing.  “I’m sorry, I...”  But he didn’t get a chance to finish it.  Lucius had grabbed him by his upper arm and started dragging him, through the door, down the hall, two rights, a left, up a set of stairs.  They stopped abruptly outside of the door to Harry’s room and Lucius opened it, forcefully shoving Harry inside and around to face him.

He had just enough time to register that Lucius was really angry before the back of Lucius’ closed fist connected with the side of his face, sending him crashing to the floor.  He stared at the carpet in shock.  He shouldn’t be surprised, Lucius was a Death Eater, he worked for Voldemort, the man who wanted him dead.  He should be relieved that Lucius had finally shown his real colours.  But he wasn’t.  He looked at the intricate weave of the beige strands in front of his nose until the door closed with a loud slam.

His face hurt.  It was hot and throbbing and the pain was getting worse as the seconds ticked by.  A splat of blood hit the carpet and he stared at it in awe.  He hadn’t seen his own blood in weeks now.  He’d almost forgotten how red it was.  Seconds later he saw something else hit the carpet, something clear.  It took him a moment to realise he was crying and once he realised it he couldn’t stop.

After ten minutes, the tears seemed to dry up, much to his relief.  The blood had stopped long before that, leaving only a few small red stains on the carpet.  His face still hurt and a quick look in the bathroom mirror confirmed that it would make a fantastic bruise, as would the place where Lucius had gripped his arm.  Sitting on the bed, he picked up ‘Orwick the Half-Sized Auror,’ trying to ignore that his hands were shaking, and waited.

____________________ 

Orwick was hunting down a man who had charmed Rubber Ducks to viciously attack people.  One muggle had had his entire finger bitten off and a Mediwizard had to put it back on and alter his memory.

It was two days before Lucius came to let him out.  Two days of no food and only the water that he drank out of the bathroom sink.  He’d had a lot of time to think.  He’d thought about his time with Voldemort and about the abuse and the pain and the touching that made him fall apart and crawl away, anything to get away from it.  He’d thought about his time with Greyback and about being chained to a bed and passed around to children younger than himself and the terror of knowing that when he wasn’t being raped by someone else, he was being raped by Greyback and tortured and cut and hurt.  He’d thought about his friends, probably still back at Godric’s Hollow, trying to find him. 

They had probably searched Malfoy Manor at some point already, when he was first taken, but would they again?  He doubted it.  For the first time, he really doubted it.  How long had it been now since he’d been taken?  At least a month, maybe two.  If they hadn’t found him yet... What was it that Moody had said?  If someone goes missing and you can’t find them the chances that they’re alive decrease after twenty four hours.  What were the chances after two months and with the war to fight, that they would really be able to keep searching for him.

Then he’d thought about Lucius.  Lucius who had fed him, talked to him, told him stories to cheer him up, gave him books to read, took him on walks, kissed him, but never demanded more, never even demanded that really, because Harry had never tried to pull away or deny him.  They weren’t coming for him and if he had to choose between Voldemort, Greyback, and Lucius, he’d take Lucius any day.  He’d give Lucius anything.  Anything to keep him from getting angry and violent again.

So, when the door finally opened, Harry was so relieved that he dropped the book he was reading and threw himself at the man, grasping him around the waist and burying his head in Lucius’ strong chest, mumbling apologies and begging for forgiveness.  There was no hesitation in the tall wizard’s movements.  He put a hand on Harry’s chin, tilted his head up and kissed him.  It was forgiveness, as easy as that.  No tasks demanded of him, no yelled, cursing, no more hitting, just two days and a kiss and he was forgiven.

He moved his arms to wrap them around Lucius’ neck and kissed him back, passionately, willing to give him anything.  Anything to keep from being sent back to Greyback or Voldemort, anything to keep the man happy, or whatever passed for happy in the mind of Lucius Malfoy.  The older man’s hand rested on his hip for a moment before sliding back and cupping his arse.  The thought of giving into that was frightening, but the idea of what would happen if he didn’t was terrifying.

One of Lucius’ fingers moved to lay over his crack and Harry surprised himself by moaning.  He surprised himself even more when he realised it wasn’t forced, or even an automatic reaction.  If anything he should have flinched, or pulled away at the touch, but there was something about the way Lucius was massaging his mouth with his tongue and the way he smelled sharply of sweat and some expensive cologne that made it difficult to do anything other than press himself closer and breathe more deeply.

When they finally separated, it was Lucius who had pulled away and Harry found himself disappointed, despite his best efforts to the contrary.  A pale hand brushed the dark bruise on Harry’s cheek and Harry did flinch then, at the memory of having made Lucius angry and the threat of what would happen if he did it again.  “You have not eaten.”

“You haven’t given me anything to eat.”  Harry could have bitten his tongue off, but Lucius only smiled placatingly and took the smaller man’s hand.

“Well, then, I will have to remedy the situation.”  It was as if the pervious infringement had never happened.  Lucius took him to parlour and ordered sweets before the meal and Harry had eaten them, because he was so desperately hungry and he loved sweets.  Afterwards he’d been tired and Lucius had taken him to his room, where he had lay down, fully clothed, and gone immediately to sleep, vowing never to outburst again, because it simply wasn’t worth it.

____________________

“You’ll never prove it was me, Orwick Penderworth.  I didn’t use my own wand.”

“No, you used the wand of a dead man, a Mr. Robert Sheffield.  I wonder if the Auror’s will be able to trace his death to you?”

“You little...”

“Ah, ah, Mr. Corrigan, I left the wand with my friends and if I don’t return in ten minutes, they’ll take it to the Ministry Magic.  There was just one thing I wanted to know.”

“Harry?”

Harry looked up from where he had been reading, curled up on a chair in Lucius’ study.  “Hm?”

Lucius looked at him from across the room, one eyebrow raised in question, “I’ve called for you three times already.”

“Oh.”  Harry closed the book and set it down, “I’m sorry, it was getting good...”

He stopped, because Lucius had stood up and walked over to him, that hungry look in his eyes again.  The kissing had moved on to groping.  Lucius liked to touch him, running hands over his arms and back and abdomen.  Occasionally, the older wizard would deviate and squeeze Harry’s arse, or brush his fingers against the boy’s cock.

Harry couldn’t hold back his pleased moan as Lucius kissed him now.  It was wrong that he enjoyed it, he knew that, somewhere, it just didn’t seem to matter when they were together.  A hand stole down and pushed up Harry’s shirt.  Warm fingers pressed against his stomach and moved around to his back, pulling him up and onto his feet so that they were standing chest to chest.

When Lucius began to pull away, Harry whimpered and followed the retreating mouth, his lips feeling cold without them.  A hand moved to the front of his trousers, cupping his growing erection firmly and Lucius’ voice filled his ear, leaving warm breath in its wake, “You’re so very eager this morning, my Harry.”

His Harry.  Lucius’ Harry.  Closing his eyes, Harry tried not to think about it, tried not to accept it as the truth that it was becoming.  Every day that passed left him fewer and fewer defences against the man.  Every time they kissed, every time Lucius touched him, he was becoming more and more aware that he didn’t just want him.

“Please, Lucius.”

“Please, what?”  The hand caressed the bulge and Harry felt his legs going weak.  “What do you want from me, Harry?”

The way Lucius said that should be illegal, unforgivable.  “I want... I need you.”

“Need me, do you?”  He was outright stroking now, moving his fingernails over the fabric covering Harry’s balls while he worked the palm of his hand over the cock.  “What, exactly, do you need me for?”

Harry whined, clutching Lucius’ shirt desperately, “Need you to show me.”  He hoped that was enough, because even those few words had cost him a great effort.  He should have known better.  Lucius stopped moving his hand and was simply staring at Harry with one perfectly manicured eyebrow, raised inquisitively.  If Harry hadn’t been able to feel the older man’s bulge against his hip, he could have thought they were discussing pottery for all the interest Lucius was showing.

If he said anymore, there would be no denying it.  If he went that one, simple step further, there would be no turning back.

Harry thought about his friends, who were probably looking for him, worried about him, wondering what had happened to him.  He thought about Dumbledore and how he had died for this cause, the cause of killing Voldemort.  He thought off all the Aurors that still worked together under the Order of the Phoenix, trying to do what their fallen leader would have wanted.  Harry had been one of them, but what was he now?  A captive to Death Eaters, a whore to Voldemort and anyone he chose to give Harry to.  The chances of rescue slim and escape was all but impossible.  He could keep trying or he could...

Lucius started to pull away from him, sensing the hesitation and Harry opened his eyes, not having realised he’d closed them and looked into the grey depth of Lucius’ eyes.  He’d made his decision.  “I need you to fuck me.”

____________________

Lucius had been biding his time for days.  Weeks.  He had coddled and pampered the little Gryffindor hero and everything was finally coming around.  Not that he had expected it would be easy, but he only had so much patience when dealing with children.  In fact, when Potter had hesitated in saying what he wanted, Lucius had been very much on the verge of summoning a house elf to kick out of frustration.  Then, just as he was beginning to feel that all hope was lost, Potter did something miraculous.  He opened that perfect, pouty mouth of his and said six magic words.

“I need you to fuck me.”

 He could practically hear the choir of angels singing in his head.  Grabbing Potter by the back of the head, he pulled him up into a kiss, devouring the boy’s mouth.  It tasted sweet, like the pastries they had eaten with tea.  Gods, but the boy could stuff his mouth with no end in site.  It was a bloody miracle he hadn’t made himself ill. Thinking about that mouth covered in powdered sugar and flakes of chocolate was an aphrodisiac in and of itself and Lucius felt his already swollen cock twitch in its confines.

Taking his hand from Potter’s erection, he began to undo the loose fitting trousers, just enough to delve his fingers into them and feel the heat of that hard flesh against his palm.  The boy’s tongue moved greedily around his mouth, practically begging Lucius to continue.  That was what Lucius liked about boys, they were eager for the taking, they wanted it fast and when he drew it out they begged.  Men tended to be far more patient and if there was one thing Lucius did not appreciate, it was an even playing field, especially in bed.

Lucius wrapped his fingers around the boy’s erection and stroked it, memorising the feel of the pulsing veins against his hand and Potter pushed himself forward into the touch.  Such an eager child.  Pulling away almost entirely, Lucius looked down into Potter’s bright green eyes, clouded with lust, and smiled inwardly.  Everything was going as planned, but he’d think about that later, now it was time for him to enjoy the spoils of all his patience.

“I would say that we should take this to a bedroom, but I somehow doubt you would last that long.”  He saw the little shudder that ran through the boy and remembered what kinds of things had happened to him in bedrooms.  That was very interesting and had the potential to cause problems, but then there were a great many places that one could fuck in Malfoy Manor without stepping foot in a bedroom.

“Sit on the couch, Harry.”

Potter sat quickly, his legs slightly parted and his trousers open, revealing the barest trail of dark pubic hair over the white rim of underwear.  With as much grace as he could manage, considering the situation, Lucius sank to his knees between the boy’s legs and forced them wider to accommodate him.  Potter groaned and let his head fall back, exposing his pale neck.  With a feral grin, Lucius leaned forward, latching into the column and sucking, scraping with just a hint of teeth across the sensitive flesh.

For a moment, Potter tensed, but he relaxed just as quickly, accepting that Lucius didn’t mean to hurt him that way.  Although Lucius was very aware of what was going through Potter’s mind, he forced himself to continue.  The boy was going to be his, fully and completely.  He was going to trust him, if only because he needed him.  Memories of some flee-ridden pack of werewolves would not stand in the way of what Lucius wanted.  Nothing would.

While Potter enjoyed the attention Lucius was lavishing on his neck, the blonde wizard began unbuttoning his shirt and slipped a hand inside, running his nails over a hard nipple.  Potter arched up, panting and Lucius pinched it, twisting the little nub.  “Do you like that?”

The boy had the most delicious whimpers, full of need and practically a plea all on their own.  “Y... yes.”

Lucius rolled the boy’s nipple between his fingers, pulling slightly before letting it go and moving his mouth down, tonguing the heated skin.  Potter’s hands moved from clenching the sofa to gripping the back of Lucius’ arms instead, pulling at the expensive fabric of the shirt.  As much as he enjoyed the reactions he was evoking from Potter, he did have a care for his clothing and if this kept up the shirt was going to be stretched out of shape or torn entirely.  Leaning away, he quickly shrugged off his cloak and unlaced the top of his shirt, pulling it over his head.

Potter’s eyes widened as Lucius bared his naked torso, the well toned muscles and pale skin shadowed in the dim light of the parlour.  The message in that over expressive face was clear, ‘this is real, this is happening.’  Oh, how delightful this was going to be and so much the better that the boy wasn’t a virgin, because Lucius didn’t particularly enjoy taking things slowly.

With a little more fumbling than was strictly necessary, Potter managed to pull his own shirt off, tossing it away.  He bit his lip and looked at Lucius with expectant eyes and far be it for Lucius to deny such an eager young specimen.  Delving his hand back into Potter’s trousers, he stopped himself short of kissing the boy, instead watching his face closely, watching the expression, the dilation of the pupils and the twitch of the mouth, making sure that his advances were not making the boy unsure.  He was only going to have one shot at this, if he failed in his attempt, if the boy didn’t trust him, didn’t lean on him completely, then he would have to give him back and Lucius hated giving back what was his.  However, there was nothing like reluctance or regret in the lidded expression on Potter’s face, only open lust and reckless need.

“Lift your hips.”  With a twisted grin, the blonde wizard slipped the trousers and underpants over Potter’s bony hips and down his spindly legs.  He always was a thin boy, but due to the starvation he had suffered at the hands of Greyback, Potter was even more unnaturally thin than before.  Of course, he had gained some in the past weeks and another month would see him back at a healthy weight, but until then Lucius would have to put up with jutting hip bones and knobbly knees.

Potter reached forward, as if to help Lucius take off his trousers, but Lucius knocked the hands away, “Patience, love, we’ll get to that.”

Potter whined, but dropped his hands back to his sides and leaned against the sofa while Lucius continued to explore the young body below him.  The bruises and cuts left behind by Greyback had healed, but some thin lined scars were still visible on the boy’s thighs.  Not taking his gaze away from Potter’s wide eyes, Lucius lowered his head and licked the small scars, seeing the hard cock before him twitch at the attention.

Lucius tongued the underside of the leaking cock and watched as Potter’s mouth dropped open and a soft, deep moan fell from it.  Wrapping his lips around the head, Lucius felt the shudder of satisfaction as much as he heard it in the hiss that Potter emitted as he dropped his head against the back of the sofa.  There was something entirely too gratifying about having the ability to reduce his lovers to a puddle with only his mouth.

Of course, gratifying or not, Lucius had no desire to end this before it truly began and he didn’t doubt that Potter was going to come to his end very soon.  Then again, Potter was a teenage boy and as such could very well come to his end several times.  With that in mind, Lucius took the head of Potter’s cock into the back of his throat.  The boy arched half off the seat and his nails tore through the fabric as he came, screaming wordlessly.

Sucking the boy’s seed, Lucius waited till the member began to go limp in his mouth before pulling away.  Sucking cock could be such an undignified act, but he could at least make it that much less of a mess by swallowing.  Besides, a Malfoy never spat.  It was rude.  Potter was breathless above him, look down with hero-worship written all over his adolescent features.  It was all turning out so perfectly.

“Are you ready to begin, Harry?”

The green eyes became impossibly large, “B... begin?”

Lucius stroked his hand down the tanned cheek, not missing the way the boy’s head tilted into the touch.  “That was hardly more than an introduction.  Now, be a good boy and lift your feet onto the sofa.”

Harry bit his lip curiously, but did as he was told.  Lucius took a moment to glance at the fabric under the boy’s fingers and nearly cringed.  It would have to be reupholstered.  No matter, perhaps Lucius could find something that suited the room better, something in a blue.  Until then, he had a very nervous, young wizard sitting on the ruined couch, looking at him anxiously.  There really was no sense in keeping the boy waiting any longer, was there.

He put his hands on Harry’s thighs and pushed them back and open, just enough to make the boy feel more exposed and more open.  “You look so absolutely delicious lay out like this.”  The boy blushed brightly and Lucius grinned, taking on hand off a thigh to cup Harry’s head as he kissed him.  “Hold onto your legs.”

There was a moment’s hesitation and had Lucius been in his right mind, or if he had had sex anytime in the past month, he might have taken a step back and re-evaluated his plan.  As it was, he ignored it and instead determined that he would have to speed things up just a bit so as not to give the boy time to rethink anything.  A quick summoning charm and a small decorative bowl appeared at Lucius’ side.  He opened the lid and sank two of his fingers into the slick substance within.  It could have been the best lubrication that money could buy, as it was, it was a gift that Severus had given to him some years ago.  The smallest amount of which was enough for the roughest sex and it never dried out.  Sadly, there was a little under half of it left.  Perhaps Lucius should ask for more some time soon.

To distract the boy from what he was doing, Lucius leaned forward and kissed him just before sliding one finger down his arse and slipping it inside the tight, puckered entrance.  Potter started, giving a small, surprised gasp, but quickly relaxed.  Lucius didn’t doubt it was more from surprise than anything else.  Neither Greyback, nor Voldemort struck him as the kind to take care in preparing a victim for rape, they also did not strike him as the sort to use lubricant beyond their own spit unless it were strictly necessary.

Slowly, Lucius worked his finger in and out, sliding it deeper by centimetres until it was firmly planted to the knuckle inside Potter’s arse.  Potter squirmed uncomfortably, but not as if he were in pain, which was a good sign.  There had been a chance that Greyback had done permanent damage and that everything up until now would have been a waste.  Lucius crooked his finger and move it in and out until Potter’s eyes shot open and his body went rigid in shock, his cock coming to immediate attention.  Very good, no damage done there, either.

Lucius ran his finger past Potter’s prostate again and the emerald eyes rolled back into the boy’s head in rapture.  He was such a perfect specimen, so eager and so ready.  Lucius pushed the second finger in, pulling his mouth away so that he could better hear the whimpering moans.  “Oh, god.  Oh, god.”

The nails of the boy’s hands were digging half moons into his thighs and Lucius moved one of the small hands out of the way, licking the creased skin while he moved his fingers in and out, finger fucking the saviour of the wizarding world in his parlour.  Oh, the thought alone was delicious, but image... well, he would have to preserve this memory in a pensieve to ensure that he never forgot every nuance of the boy’s face or the twist of his body as he writhed in pleasure.

“I’m going to fuck you.”

Harry managed a quick succession of eager nods and Lucius bit back a chuckle as he pulled his fingers free and applied a small amount of the lubricant to both himself and the boy.  Positioning himself, he braced the slender legs on his shoulder and his hands on either side of the slim hips so that he could stare at the youthful face as he sank his cock into Potter’s tight arse.

It was incredible.  For someone who had been passed around a pack of werewolves like a wayward whore, Potter still managed to be tight and hot.  He sucked Lucius into himself, panting and moaning that was becoming his mantra, “Oh, god, oh, god.  Fuck!  Oh, god.”

By the time his balls rested against the cleft of Potter’s arse, it was all Lucius could do not to come.  For someone who had been repeatedly raped over the course of two months, the boy was incredibly responsive to sexual pleasure.  “You feel so good, Harry.”

Delightful whimpers, “oh, god,” and that arse clenching and unclenching around him in an attempt to relax was the only response he received.  Not that he needed anything more.  With deliberate care, Lucius pulled out several inches and sank back in.  Then, to his surprised, Potter grabbed him by his shoulders and yanked him forward into a heated kiss.  The thrust of his tongue into Lucius’ mouth was almost violent.  Potter pulled back just as quickly as he had lunged forward.  His cheeks were bright pink, his eyes glazed, but focused, “Do it.”

As much as Lucius wanted to insist that Potter say exactly what it was he wanted Lucius to do, he was far too gone himself and it was all he could do to concentrate on fucking the boy at an angle and pace that would be pleasurable for them both.  He took the time necessary to once again be thankful the boy was no virgin because he started to thrust.  Potter’s eyes half closed, his throat emitting sounds that could be mistaken for nothing other than pleasure.  Taking it as encouragement, Lucius picked up his speed and pushed deeper on the down thrust, enjoying the tight ring of muscle contracting around his cock at odd intervals as Potter tensed with each brush against his prostate and tried to relax again.

Pounding into the lithe form bellow him, Lucius felt like a randy teenager again and he knew it wasn’t going to be long before he came.  Precariously, he balanced himself on one hand and used to other to stroke Potter, revelling in fact that he came almost immediately, clamping down on the organ still moving inside of him and crying out loudly, practically sobbing with pleasure.  It was that sound that was Lucius’ undoing and he spilled his seed inside the boy, imagining that he was claiming him for all time.  Perhaps he was.

____________________

Potter was sitting in one of the stiff chairs in Lucius’ study, his perfect little nose buried in a book.  Lucius looked closely at the embossed tightly on the front, ‘Orwick the Half-Sized Auror and the Case of the Singing Tea Cosy.’  Was he still on that childish tripe?  There were bound to be better things to read than that.  Why, Lucius’ personal library held the biographies of some of the greatest wizards of all times.

He frowned as he watched the boy’s eyes move over the pages, seemingly entranced by what he was reading.  “Harry.”

Potter kept reading. 

“Harry!” 

He looked up this time, startled, “I’m sorry, what?”

Lucius sighed, “You should be reading something more intellectually stimulating that Orwick the Half-Sized Auror.  That was written for eight-year-olds, you know.”

Potter frowned and glanced back at the page again before casting a pleading glance at Lucius, “But I like it.  It’s funny and it’s... not complicated.”  He didn’t have to vocalise it, but Lucius knew what Potter was trying to say.  A lot of things had gotten complicated for him recently.  Perhaps Greyback had done more damage to the boy’s psyche that Lucius first surmised.

“Oh, very well.  I suppose you’ll run out eventually and perhaps then I can force something a little more cultured on you.”  Potter grinned at him mischievously and put the book down, bending down the corner of the page he was reading.  Draco would have a fit if he ever opened those again and noticed that.

With grace that Lucius would have thought impossible for someone his age, Potter stood from the chair and over to him, sitting on the floor at his feet.  “What are you planning to do for today?”

“The same thing I do every day, Potter.”

“Try to take over the world?”  The boy giggled inanely at Lucius’ arched eyebrow.  “It’s from a muggle cartoon, Pinky and the Brain.  Dudley used to watch it all the time and at the beginning of every show Pinky would ask, ‘what are we doing tonight, Brain?’ and Brain would say...” he stopped, his expression falling in the face of Lucius stern glare, “you don’t really give a flying sod, do you?”

Lucius harrumphed and turned back to his papers, “If sod were flying around, I would most certainly give a care.  At the very least I’d have to avoid it to keep from soiling my robes.  However, I do not care for being compared to muggle children’s programming.”

Harry frowned and picked at his toe nails.  He rarely wore shoes around the house anymore, a sign that could be taken as him having given up the hope of escape, or it could simply mean he’d gone that much more barmy, but with Potter it was very hard to tell.  “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Lucius put a hand on the boy’s head and watched the frown melt into a content smile.  The plan was working perfectly, even better than he and Voldemort had hoped.  When they had captured Potter, Voldemort had tried many ways to kill him.  He’d held his hand over the boy’s scar for long periods of time, but it became apparent that the only thing that was going to accomplish was driving the child mad.  He’d tried to curse him, but they always backlashed in one form or another.  He’d even tried very muggle methods, such as strangulation, but the closer Potter came to death, the weaker Voldemort felt and eventually he had given up.  Until he knew what connected him to Potter and how it worked, he wasn’t going to risk killing the child, because certainly this was more than a mere mother’s love protecting him now.

They had researched it, Voldemort taking the time to enjoy the boy and finding that there was much to enjoy with his physical form back and a young, physically appealing enemy at his mercy.  When they could find no answer, Voldemort had asked Lucius if he thought he could turn Potter, if he could make him do Voldemort’s bidding.  He could.  He had done it before, although granted he’d never tried it with someone as stubborn and foolhardy as Potter, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy the challenge.

So, they had devised a plan.  Send the boy to someone who had the time and energy to truly abuse and torture him.  Greyback had been risky, but the Lestranges had been the only other option and Bellatrix probably would have killed the boy and claimed it was an accident.  However, Greyback was an animal, albeit a werewolf, and he was also very good at following instruction, especially when those instructions allowed him nearly free reign over the torture of a powerful wizard.

After his month long stay in Voldemort’s care, Potter had already been worn thin, but he still had spirit and that was what Lucius wanted to see broken.  With that out of the way, Potter would be like putty in his hands.  So they left him with the werewolf for a while, three weeks and when Lucius came to get him it was very obvious that there was little left of the boy that resembled his former self.

From there it was a simple matter of making the boy rely on him for everything.  First wood and water, then entertainment, then companionship, and finally his praise.  Potter didn’t leave Lucius’ side, he cowed when it appeared the man was upset, and beamed when he thought he had done something good.

In the last week since they had begun to have a physical relationship, the change in the boy had been monumental.  He had gone from sulking around the various corners of his rooms to following Lucius around like a shadow at his side.  Potter’s laughter and raised voice could be heard ringing through the manor as he listened to jokes and asked questions about portraits and oddly decorated rooms.

For all of that, Lucius was concerned.  The change had been so sudden that he couldn’t help but wonder if it was due emotional trauma.  Not that it mattered.  As long as he got the results he wanted, the Dark Lord would hardly care how sane Potter was, but still...

Potter sighed and leaned his head on Lucius’ thigh, playfully licking it before standing up and returning to curl up on the chair with his book.  It would be interesting to see if things progressed the way Lucius hoped they would, because if not, the results could be disastrous.

____________________

“But, Lucius, I don’t want to be a Death Eater.”  Potter was standing in the middle of his room, wearing long black robes, holding a mask in his hands that was identical to the one Lucius wore.

“As I explained this morning, Harry, you have a choice.  You can either choose to do as I say or you can choose to go back to being passed around to Dark Lords and werewolves.”

Potter pouted, a very childish response to a very serious threat.  In the past month, the boy had shown clear signs that he was damaged beyond repair, at least mentally.  At some point during his stay with Lucius, Potter had retreated into childhood.  It was an act that allowed him to escape the seriousness of the situation, but however damaged he may be, the boy still possessed the power and knowledge that he had before.  He would still be an asset, simply a temperamental one and it was Lucius’ job to keep him from acting out.

“I don’t want to do either.  I want to stay here.”  Lucius saw the pout turn to a seductive grin and knew what was coming next before his pretty little mouth even opened, “I want to stay and warm your bed.”

Of course, there were some parts of the boy that were indelibly older than the age he acted, such as the seduction that he used to get what he wanted.  If the boy was in the mood to eat desert before meals, he offered to eat them off of Lucius’ lap.  If the boy wanted to go to bed and Lucius was still working, he offered to go there naked.  It was childish in its own way and disturbing in others.

“You’ll warm my bed later.  For now, we are going to see Voldemort and you are going to behave or I will be very displeased with you.”

Potter sighed dramatically and went back to pouting, but he didn’t attempt to dissuade Lucius further and instead held onto him tightly as he apparated to Voldemort’s lair.  Potter stumbled a little on rematerialising, one might have thought he had never apparated before, but perhaps it was that slide-along apparition was more disorienting since you were unaware of where you were going until you got there.

There were few people there, far fewer than Lucius would have expected.  Fenrir Greyback, Severus Snape, the Lestranges, and another man that Lucius did not recognise were standing around the room, glaring at each other as they waited for Lucius to arrive with their newest recruit.  Potter tensed beside him as his eyes fell from one Death Eater to the next.  Voldemort was sitting on his chair at the front of the room, but had said nothing at their appearance.

Bellatrix glanced around and stopped in mid conversation with her husband.  Rudolphus followed her gaze and soon all attention was on Potter.  Bella was the first to step forward.  She ran a hand through the boy’s mussed up hair, tightening the stroke to a grip when he tried to pull away.  “Such a pretty little boy now that you’re all dressed up.”

Lucius heard the boy literally growl.  Putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder, he looked sternly down at his young charge, “Don’t be rude, Harry.  Bella is family after all.”  Bellatrix grinned, but let go of Potter’s hair and stepped back to her place in the lose circle.

The blasted woman backing up did nothing to calm Potter’s tension, but he did stop growling, which was a vast improvement.  Voldemort chuckled, “I see that Lucius has finally succeeded in reining our wayward Mr. Potter.  How are you this evening, Harry, anxious?”

Harry looked at Lucius again before turning back to Voldemort and giving a half bow, “N... I’m nervous, my lord.”

“So polite.  Malfoy, my dear friend, you do work wonders.”  The other Death Eaters around the room bristled at the compliment, all save Severus, who appeared too busy watching the scene unfold to care about what was being said.  “Harry, you will look at me.”

Potter’s gaze immediately fell on Voldemort, his brow drawn together in a show of pain, but never wavering, nonetheless.  “Do you come willingly?”

Potter looked back at Lucius who nodded, arranging his face in a parental look of pleasure that made the boy smile slightly before turning back.  Whatever would please Lucius would please the boy, that was what they had wanted.  “Yes.”

“Do you know what it means to be a Death Eater, Harry?”

Potter bit his lip thoughtfully, “It means that I do your bidding.”

The Dark Lord lunged forward, putting his noseless face mere inches from the boy’s.  To his credit, Potter did no more than squint in as show of pain that this closeness caused.  “It means that you will kill for me.  Are you prepared to kill?”

When Potter did not immediately speak up, Lucius was afraid that he had misjudged the situation and that Potter was not yet ready, but then the boy straightened himself, his posture becoming sure. “Yes.”  He looked back at Lucius, his pride in himself clear from the smile on his face.  Thank gods the boy was such an exuberant lover or the strain of having to deal with him might have been too much for even Lucius to bear.

“Then show me.”

With a wave of his hand, Bella left the room and returned dragging something behind her.  It was a young girl with brilliant red hair and pale, freckled features; unmistakably a Weasley.  She was hunched over to cover her half-nudity, but when she saw Potter, her pale eyes lit up.  “Harry!”  Then she faltered as her gaze fell on the mask he was holding.  “Harry?”

 Lucius put his hand on Potter’s shoulder and leaned forward.  His part in this was to reassure the boy, to make him do what Voldemort wanted through manipulation.  Seeing their saviour fighting against them would be a great blow to the Order of the Phoenix and to see him doing it with a smile on his face and Lucius Malfoy at his side would be an even greater triumph for Voldemort.

Potter looked back at Lucius and the older man smiled, saying, “I am so very proud of you, Harry,” before handing the boy a wand.  It wasn’t a real one, of course, this was a test.  Potter would say the killing curse and a green light would fire, but it wouldn’t kill anyone.  If he passed, Bellatrix would dispose of the girl and Potter would be branded, his own wand returned to him.

The girl stood where she had been thrust in the centre of the room, looking at Potter in confusion as the boy eyed the wand, most likely considering his options.  “H... Harry?”

Lucius squeezed the boy’s shoulder and it was as if he had pulled the trigger on a muggle weapon.  Potter lifted the wand and the sound of his voice shouting the killing curse bounced off the walls as light shot from the wand and passed through the shocked girl harmlessly.  There was no sound in the room for several seconds after.  In truth, Lucius was surprised that Potter had done it.  He had expected the boy to turn the wand on Voldemort, or on Greyback, but instead he had passed the test, firing the killing curse at an innocent girl who thought he was her friend.

Bellatrix fired the real curse as soon as she had recovered herself and the Weasley girl’s dead body hit the floor heavily.  Potter still didn’t move and Lucius began to feel apprehensive again.  Had he pushed too far?  Had the boy broken entirely?  Before he could truly question himself, Potter looked at him with wide, expectant eyes and a worried frown on his lips.  “It didn’t kill her.  Did I do it right?”

Voldemort laughed and Potter whipped his head around to look at the man standing next to him.  “You did fine, Harry.  You passed the test.  Hold out your arm.”

Potter looked back at Lucius, who nodded, and then extended his arm, pushing his sleeve back hastily.  Voldemort pressed his wand to the sensitive skin of the forearm and casting the curse that would brand the boy as his.  Receiving the Dark Mark hurt a great deal.  Lucius had screamed, a young Severus had actually cried, but Potter did neither.  He bit of a cry of surprise and then dug his teeth into his lip, riding out the pain as dark magic ingrained itself into him.

When it was done, Voldemort took out the wand that was so similar to his own and placed it in the boy’s hand before taking his chin between his fingers and kissed him chastely on the lips, “Once a Death Eater, my beloved Harry, always a Death Eater.  Never forget that.”

Lucius couldn’t see Potter’s face, but he understood the tone of Potter’s voice.  “Never.  And, my lord?”  Voldemort raised one hairless eyebrow and if Lucius had been looking, he might have seen the smirk on Potter’s lips, “Never forget that you killed my parents.  Avada Kedavra!”

Bellatrix’ outraged scream was cut off as Potter aimed the curse at her next and Greyback fell before he could take a step forward.  Lucius had backed away from the boy, shock holding him in place.  Rudolphus, ever the clever man, grabbed his wife’s body and apparated.  The boy trained his wand on the stranger, then hesitated and moved it to Severus, who stared back with even eyes.  Lucius had never considered his friend to be a stupid man, but to not move when a homicidal Harry Potter pointed a wand at you, was very, very stupid.  Then again, Lucius himself had yet to apparate out of the chamber, so perhaps he shouldn’t be pointing fingers.

Severus stood motionless against the wall, “Are you going to kill me, Potter?”

Potter’s eye twitched, “I should.  You killed him.”

Severus flinched, something that Lucius could say he had never seen his friend do.  “He ordered me to.”

 “I know.”  At Severus’ confused expression, Potter smiled sadly, “Voldemort has a very large mouth when he thinks he has nothing left to lose.  He told me about the unbreakable vow.  He told me about his orders to Draco.  It didn’t take long to figure it out.  I should still kill you.”

Severus nodded, “As you should.”

Potter paused for only a moment longer before turning his wand on the stranger and cast the killing curse a fourth time, watching with satisfaction as the body fell to the ground.  He turned back to Severus, his wand at his side.  “Go.”

Lucius wasn’t sure why he hadn’t done the same the moment the killing had started.  He could only assume that it was shock, something else a Malfoy should never suffer from.  Potter did not turn to him, but stared at the spot where Severus had disappeared from, his back to Lucius.  “I’m very tired, Lucius.”

It was hard not to start at the sound of that voice, so young and drained from having killed so many in such a short period of time.  Even Voldemort would have been winded by the task.  Lucius stepped forward and tentatively put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.  He needed to know if the boy leaned on him.  With Voldemort gone, the ministry would immediately start rounding up Death Eaters and it was not going to be easy to get out of it this time.  Having Potter at his side, however, would make it better.  “Perhaps we should return to the Manor, then, and you can have a nap.”

Potter laughed, as full as he had the day before, running through the halls after Lucius, “And we could pretend nothing happened.”

The boy turned around and Lucius saw such determination in those green depths that it very nearly frightened him.  “Precisely.”

Lucius felt something press into his chest and looked down to see the tip of Potter’s wand pressed against it.  “I won’t let them take you, but I can’t ignore what you are.” 

“You could allow me to leave.”

Potter shook his head and leaned up, kissing Lucius’ slack lips softly and smiling at him again.  “I’m sorry.”  Lucius couldn’t even say he heard the killing curse, but he saw Potter’s lips move.  Not that it matter, because he was dead.