Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

A Different Kind of Hero	By : JunjouSlashGirl Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 53264 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters. All rights belong to J. K. Rowling. I do not earn any money with this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter 3: A Truce
LM
The next morning found Lucius walking through the small house. Once again Potter had been plagued by nightmares, but this time he had fallen asleep after some time and felt, luckily, passably rested. Now he was studying the home of Potters’ late relatives. He was not quite sure why he was doing that. Lucius told himself that he did it because he wanted to find useful information for his master, after his failure of doing so successfully yesterday, but a twisting feeling in his gut indicated that he was not quite honest with himself. If he had been honest, then he would have to admit, that the number of pictures on the fireplace were of no use for his master and that he could stop his task instantly. But as little as Potter had told him back in the ice cream parlour, it had been enough to tell him that the boy had been very unhappy with his late family. To be precise: The boys refusal to talk about the prick of an uncle and cousin and that horse-like woman, that called themselves Potters guardians, was the main indicator that Potter had not had a good life in this house.
Potter was once again outside with his new pet snake and enjoying the warm summer sun. Lucius did not appreciate the summer sun so much, because he always quickly got sunburn with his pale complexion. He had already noticed, that there were no pictures with Harry on the walls or, as he had already mentioned, on the fireplace, so he pulled out an old looking picture book and opened it.
The pictures of cause were not moving, that much he had noticed already during his stay in the muggle world. He saw the fat uncle of Harry’s and his ugly, horse like wife, together with their son, who had already been way too corpulent as a child. The family seemed to visit a park or something, but Potter was nowhere to be found. He turned the pages and finally found the small boy he was looking for on the last page. His fat cousin was standing in front of a compound with lions, holding a big ice-cream cone with sprinkles and whipped cream in his chubby hands, whilst a small raven haired boy was sitting on a bench at the side, holding a small water ice and looking as if Yule had come early. Lucius could not think of a reason why someone would be so happy about this small and unappetizing looking ice.
He closed the book again and opened a second one. These pictures looked, as if they were made during a summer break. Harry’s cousin looked around six years old, Lucius thought, that he should not search for Potter to guess his age, because the boy always looked so much younger than he really was. He saw the blond boy sitting in a round, colorful something with water in it and playing with small boats. After some more pictures in the same manner he came across one that showed Potter as well. As with the last time, Potter was only in the background, as if he had gotten in the picture by accident. The child seemed to do something. Squinting his eyes to see what exactly he was doing, he noticed with irritation, that the boy was plucking weeds with his small hands. A wave of rage filled him suddenly.
Had this poor excuse for humans, who now lay dead and cold, buried in the back garden, forced their own nephew to work for them? Muggles, he decided were worse than animals. But at least he had his first indicator that supported his theory. If Potter had to work like this every day he clearly had been abused.
He put the book back into its rightful space and went into the lounge; there was no sign of Potter either, so he went into the small kitchen. For Lucius, the kitchen was the strangest room in the muggle house with all its strange devices, even so, he opened the first cupboard he came across and peered inside, but he only found spices and other ingredients.
The next shelf held plates and bowls and the last one cups. Lucius saw a cup with the name Vernon on it and started to carefully rummage through the cups and found two others with the names Dudley and Petunia, but none with the name Harry on it. It started to seem as if Harry did not belong in his own family home. Lucius had always believed that muggles could treat their family so cold heartedly, but he had never thought that Dumbledore would let his favorite student live among those people for two month each year. Did the old headmaster not see the danger for the light side in treating the boy like this?
For the first time in his life Lucius wanted to shake his head, but that would be undignified of a Malfoy and he refrained from doing so. Dumbledore was a bigger fool than he had thought; it was possible he had raised the only person who could save the light side to be a weapon for the dark side. Maybe, he should think about persuading Potter to change to the Dark Lords side and not merely bringing him to his Lord, but to be sure that this would be a wise thing to try, he had to watch the boy a bit longer.
Leaving the kitchen, he went upstairs. Lucius knew that the bedroom where they had slept in the last two nights was the former room of Potters uncle and aunt, which meant that somewhere here had to be the boy’s room. He opened the first door to his right and stepped inside. The room was fairly large and he saw another of these irritating black boxes. A big bed stood in a corner and everywhere laid scattered clothes. Lucius did not think that this was Potters room, the boy was may not be as neat as he himself, but not as messy either.
However, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him and looked around. He could not find a single book, only flat boxes, with strange slogans on it. When he opened one of them, he saw a small disc. Closing it again and dropping it carelessly on the ground, he walked over to the night stand. On top of it stood a single picture of the lowly muggle family, so that meant that this was the room of Potters cousin, he would not find anything useful in here.
He left again and opened the second door on the right. It had many locks on it, but they were not locked right now, so he could go in without any further problems. But when Lucius looked inside, the room seemed empty and unoccupied. He wanted to close the door immediately again, when he saw a Gryffindor scarf hanging over the bed. The room had only made an empty impression on the first sight. When he went over to the scarf, he noticed, that the bed was more of a cot, than an actual bed, with old, thin and worn down sheets. No Malfoy would ever let a guest sleep in such a pure excuse of a bed, let alone a family member. He sat down and the springs creaked dissonantly. The mattress was thin, and he could feel every one of the hard metal springs digging painfully in his backside.
So, this is the boy’s room, this is how he lives when he is not in Hogwarts, Lucius thought. I should be thankful, that he does not force me to spend the nights in here. Besides the bed, the only other furniture was a small, unsteady looking cupboard and a desk, which was in the same state as the cupboard. The only personal item was the scarf on the wall.
There were no photos of his friends or late parents, no book and not even one of those black boxes. Walking over to the window, he saw iron bars in front of it. Remembering the locks on the door, he had the feeling as if he was staying in a cell, not a bedroom and an oppressive feeling overwhelmed him.
He stayed for another few minutes longer, shocked by the room in front of him, before leaving the room, instantly feeling better and making his way back downstairs.
Back in the lower hallway his eyes fell on a small cupboard under the stairs. It was quite unobtrusive, but something compelled him to open it and look inside. There was nothing special, only some boxes and a strange tool with a long, grey hose. Then his eyes fell on what lay on the ground: It was a small mattress. Frowning, he closed the door again. What was a mattress doing in a cupboard? Deciding, that it was not important right now, he closed the door again and went outside.
Potter laid on a garden lounge with his eyes closed and the large head of Nagini in his lap. He stroked the reptile lazily and looked utterly relaxed for once. Potters shirt had slid up a bit, exposing his flat stomach and giving Lucius an impression of how thin the boy really was. He had gotten an inkling of an idea back in the bus, or whatever the hellish muggle- vehicle was called, but now he could clearly see it. Potters hip bones were sticking out and his stomach was more a pit than only flat and he suddenly remembered the sharp edge of a rib bone sticking painfully into his side as he had landed on top of the boy in these blasted bus.
Still staring absentmindedly at the boy, he asked himself if Potter could have such a high metabolism or if his anorexic frame had other reasons for that. Considering the rest of his relatives’ home, he did not believe in his first theory.
It was more likely after all he had seen, that the boy had been forced to do chores, had been locked up and starved on top of that. Cold rage rose in his chest, how could anybody treat a wizard like this? How could anybody treat a child like this?
Taking a deep breath he reminded himself that Potter was Dumbledore’s concern and not his. If anything, he should be glad that Dumbledore had forced the boy to stay with his abusive relatives of his, because it heightened his chance to persuade Potter to take another path and join his Master and the dark side.
Sitting down on a second chair underneath a tree he pulled the badly written novel from his pocket, but he didn't actually read. After two whole days with the child, he had to admit that not even Potter deserved the mistreatment he had most likely endured. The boy was kind hearted, even to him, who was one of his enemies, beside some snide remarks and threats, but to be honest, Lucius didn't believe that Potter would ever make one of them true.
He opened the first button of his new, white shirt and finally started to read. The afternoon went by in surprisingly contented silence and without any argument or insults between them. They sat outside, Potter dozing, himself reading and it seemed as if their trip to London had changed something between them. As if they had come to a silent agreement of some sort. Neither of them had left the garden, with the exception of the few minutes, when Potter had gone inside and come back with a pitcher of lemonade.
At 6 PM his host had prepared dinner. Lucius had to admit, that Potter was not a bad cook, not as good as his personal house elves, but it was always edible and as long as the boy would not give him a portion of that long-lasting muggle food, he would not complain.
By now it was five hours later and they were once again in their shared bedroom. Potter stood with his back turned in his direction and he used the moment, to take another look at the boy, because taking a glance at Potters stomach was not as telling as examining his whole body. Someone should always take the whole appearance of a person into account, but what he saw only confirmed his first impression once again: Potter really was dangerously thin; it would not surprise him that his growth had already slowed down due to the absence of proper nourishment over the years.
Eyes roaming the young body, he decided that the slenderness actually fit the boy regardless of how wrong that sounded, but it underlined his boyish looks. He also noticed that puberty had indeed not reached the child yet. His muscles were still not very developed, even though he did play Quidditch most of the year and was used to physical labour. His legs were still smooth and he was sure that he would not find any pubic hair on his body. Potters skin was creamy and soft looking, all in all, the boy had an appeal to Lucius that someone so young and innocent should never have. At that moment Potter turned and he quickly drawled in his most arrogant voice: “Are you finished with changing?”
“Yeah, I am,” Potter answered and climbed into bed, reaching for the cord on his bedside table. Lucius wanted to roll his eyes, but refrained from giving in to his urges and instead stretched his right arm out wordlessly. When Potter had bound them together he climbed into bed as well and turned around like the previous nights. The lights went off and he closed his eyes. He was really tired this evening. He listened to Potters breathing, until it was deep and slow, the boy must have fallen asleep quickly for once and without nightmares.
Sighing in relief he relaxed his tense muscles and pulled the comforter over his shoulders. He had almost fallen asleep when a quiet whimper pulled him from his doziness. Obviously, neither he nor Potter would once again have the pleasure of a peaceful nights rest, but for once the annoyance he usually felt at Potters muttering and tossing didn't occur. A second whimper reached his ears and without thinking about it, he turned around to face Potter. The boy was turning his head from one side to the other, his moans growing louder and he started to kick out with his legs, as if trying to scramble away from something, only he could see and then he spoke:
“Don't! Stop! It hurts!” Potters voice was full of pain and despair. “Not again!” the voice broke and gave way to a sob. To Lucius horror tears started to run freely down the pale cheeks, not only a single one as the last nights’, but a whole stream of them. He watched the child arching his back and lifting an arm, as if he wanted to shield his face and with a pang of horror, a question appeared in Lucius mind: Had Potters relatives not only neglected and abused him by forcing him to do chores for them, but also physically?
“It hurts!” This time Potter was almost shouting and Lucius could feel the shaking of the small body even with the distance between them. How could anybody have done that to this child? Even with fifteen years of age, Harry Potter was still so innocent, not only in body, but also in mind. How twisted did someone have to be to hurt someone like Potter? The boy was so innocent and had such a pure soul, that even Lucius felt affected, in a weak and unprotected moment.
The muffled sobs tore his heart, but he was not yet ready to admit it. The fact that Harry Potter was supposed to be his enemy was still too great in his mind, even though his confidence to stay away from the tormented child grew weaker with every passing second.
Then suddenly the boy’s nightmare seemed to change:
“Please, don't kill him!”
Lucius knew what he was dreaming about now: the graveyard. To be honest, it was not very surprising that the boy had nightmares about his last encounter with the Dark Lord. He would have nightmares too if he had been in Potters place.
“Please, no! No! Please! Don't kill him! Don't kill her! Kill me instead!” Potter had started kicking wildly and Lucius lifted his hand unconsciously. Just in time he stopped himself and drew his hand back again. It was not his duty to comfort this boy. Potter was his enemy. Even more important: His Lords enemy.
But had he not always believed that no child deserved to suffer? Had he not been taught by his father that children, no matter who their parents were, deserved protection because children could not defend themselves? Maybe not all of them deserved to live in the wizarding world and learn how to use their magic, Muggleborn for example should not have these privileges, but even they deserved protection in some ways.
Furthermore: Had he not admitted to himself, only a few minutes ago, that this innocent, good- hearted boy did not deserve these nightmares, regardless of if they occurred in his dreams or in his real life? Lucius closed his eyes for a moment, listening to Harry Potters agonized sobs and made up his mind.
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HP
“Potter! Wake up! Potter!”
Harry was standing in the graveyard, bound to the gravestone and watched helplessly how Cedric and then his mother were killed again and again in an endless, torturing spiral, when the voice reached his ears.
“Potter! I said: Wake up!”
Someone was shaking his shoulders and he could see the figures and the horrible scene in front of him dissolving. His eyes were still closed, but he could feel the sheets beneath him now and the strong and warm hand on his shoulder. He wanted to be held by the person who had these strong hands. He would be safe in these arms, Harry was sure of it.
“Come on, Potter! Wake up!”
The person was obviously thinking that he was still asleep and so he let this eyelashes flutter open and he came face to face with Lucius Malfoy. The man’s face hovered much too close over him and he was peering directly into those silver orbs. He felt his cheeks heating up, but could not avert his eyes, they seemed to draw him in like a deep ocean and Harry was the one drowning, suddenly remembering how it had felt to have this man pressed against him, even if it had only been by accident. He had realized then, that this man had the power to protect him if he only had the will as well. A tingling spread in his stomach and his cheeks grew unbearable hot. He wanted to be held and protected by that man. Luckily Lucius leaned back again, before he could notice anything of his embarrassing thoughts and watched him from a safer distance.
“Are you awake now? What was the dream about?” Lucius asked, his voice was still stern, but not as cold as usual. As soon as Lucius had asked the question, the tingling feeling in his stomach vanished and the images of the nightmare came crashing down on him, sobering quickly and reminding himself that this man in front of him was Lucius Malfoy, one of the people who was responsible for his nightmares. How could he even wish to be held by him?
Harry felt his body starting to shake again and tears were prickling at his eyes. “I...I...” he stammered, the wish to entrust all his worries and fears into the aristocrat fighting against his better knowledge. For only once he wanted to tell an adult everything and not be burdened with it alone, but this was Lucius Malfoy, his enemy. His sobs grew heavier as his inner war distressed him further and he coiled up into a ball, pulling his legs protectively in front of his chest.
“Hush, Harry,” Lucius said softly and with a quick and strong movement the man leaned forwards and pulled Harry flush against his strong body, cradling him protectively.
Harry’s heart hammered in his chest and the tears still threatened to spill over. He felt Lucius hand combing soothingly through his hair and that was the last straw. Harry finally broke under all the pressure and ignored all the warnings his logical mind tried to give him:
“I...I...” he sobbed, tears soaking his and Lucius nightshirt.
“...it's all my fault that they are dead! If my mother didn't try to protect me and if I had not talked Cedric into sharing the tournament cup, they would still be alive! Everyone around me is in so much danger: my friends, the teachers, every single student and I don't know anything that could protect them! Everyone wants me to save the world, but no one is training me! I am as helpless as they are and I don't want to fight anymore! I never wanted to fight! I am not a hero! Dumbledore is keeping secrets from me, so I do not even have a clue where to start with saving the world! I hate all this, I don't want to become a murderer, these nightmares are driving me crazy and every summer I had to come back to this family, who didn't even like me!”
His voice broke and ignoring who exactly the man holding him was, he buried his face into Lucius strong chest.
“Hush, it will be all fine, Harry. I will help you, we will find a solution,” Lucius was holding him even tighter and the older man's strong arms felt like protective shields. Harry didn't know if it was the embrace, or the fact, that Lucius had called him Harry, that comforted him more.
He jerked slightly, when he suddenly realized what the aristocrat and prominent Death Eater had just promised him. It sounded like a dream, too good to be true. Why would Lucius Malfoy of all people want to help him, when not even Dumbledore did so?
“Will you really help me?” he sniffed, not able to believe it, until Lucius would confirm his promise once more.
“I will,” Lucius answered simply and continue to stroke his hair soothingly. It was a very calming gesture, one Harry had never experienced before. Everything about Lucius was soothing and reassuring right now: The way he held him tight, the muscles he could feel under his hands, which lay against the patriarch’s chest and his musky scent. Everything felt so unreal and so much more real than everything else at the same time. It was an odd feeling, but one Harry liked.
“How will you help me?” he asked, his tears slowly drying.
“Shhh, Harry, calm down. We will talk about it tomorrow. I will stay by your side, I promise, even if I have to change sides for you,” Lucius smoothed a strand of black hair from his forehead.
“But I don't want to fight for Dumbledore anymore,” Harry mumbled, suddenly feeling very tired and exhausted.
“For whom do you want to fight? For Voldemort?” Lucius inquired.
“No...” Harry stuttered, his eyelashes drooping. “For myself... and for my friends, but not as a weapon... but in my own way.”
“Then we will find your own way,” Lucius promised and pulled the comforter a bit higher. Harry snuggled deeper under the warm material, until he was completely buried beneath it.
“Try to get some more sleep,” Lucius ordered him softly.
Harry had never thought that the blondes voice could become so soft, it sounded like velvet, which soothed his soul. Closing his eyes, he laid a cheek against the man’s muscled chest, not thinking about the next morning, or the fact that he had just told his deepest secrets to a Death Eater. His body relaxed and he drifted off to his first dreamless sleep in over a year.
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HP
Harry woke up slowly. He felt warm and comfortable. Someone was holding him protectively and he didn't want to leave this quiet peace just yet. The breathing of the person next to him was deep and slow and Harry guessed that whoever it was, was still sleeping. He laid a hand on the persons arm and noticed that it had to be a man. The skin beneath his fingers was warm and smooth, as if the person had never have had to work, but muscled at the same time. Closing his eyes again, he tried to drift off to sleep for another few minutes, but he must have woken the man next to him with his touch and the person shifted. Harry didn't want him to get up just yet, he wanted to lay comfortably in this bed for a bit longer, relishing in the new feeling of being protected for the first time in his life, but the man sat up a bit and for a short moment, blond hair fell onto Harry’s face.
Harry froze. Blonde hair? The memory of the last days and especially the last night suddenly came crashing back down on him and he quickly sat up as well. His eyes met Lucius’ silver ones for a split second and he could see the same confusion he felt in the man’s eyes. Scooting a bit away from him he mumbled:
“Good morning, Lucius,” not knowing, if the aristocrat would remember his promises or stand by his words, if he did so.
“Good morning, Harry,” Lucius replied smoothly.
The use of his first name gave Harry hope, maybe Lucius had not forgotten everything and would really stand to his words....at least, if he had interpreted the man’s greeting correctly. Harry hoped so.
He looked up and stared into those cold, silver eyes and a flash of doubt threatened to suddenly overwhelm his mind. He had opened up and laid out his secrets, fears and plans in front of Lucius Malfoy, Lord Voldemort’s right- hand man, shown his weaknesses and vulnerabilities. Could he really trust the man? Or would he run to his master and tell him everything he had found out about Harry Potter as soon as he had the chance? He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, panicking never helped with anything.
Last night, Lucius had made a genuine impression on Harry and a voice inside of him told him that, yes, Lucius Malfoy was trustworthy. Harry decided to follow his instincts for the moment, it had always been the best choice in the past and after all, the feeling of being held had been so wonderful, surely no truly evil person could have held him so protectively and at the same time as tenderly as Lucius had done? But he still would be cautious.
They were still staring at each other. Neither he, nor his bed companion seemed to know how they should behave around the other after their fairly intimate night. Somewhere back in his mind he realized that he should look away, that he was not only staring at the man, but drowning in Lucius silver orbs, but Lucius seemed to drown himself and Harry’s body refused to move. For the first time, Harry noticed, that there were nearly translucent spots in the aristocrats impressive eyes, sparkling like diamonds and reflecting the light. This was surely the reason why the blonds’ stare often seemed so piercing. The silence between them stretched and grew awkward and Harry grew more aware of his staring with the second. Heat rushed to his cheeks and he finally cleared his throat, embarrassed:
“I will go downstairs and make breakfast,” he mumbled and climbed clumsily out of their shared bed, not glancing backwards as he fled the bedroom.
When he stepped into the bright hallway the morning sunlight was nearly blinding. Harry narrowed his eyes for a moment, to give them time to adjust to the brightness, but it didn't really get better and so, in the end, he ignored the uncomfortable sensation and just continued his way, thinking that he had probably just cried too much the previous night. He must have, because once out of the soothing proximity of the blonde aristocrat’s strong arms, he believed that there was no other way for Lucius Malfoy to start sympathizing with his beloved lord’s most hated enemy.
Nagini laid curled up in a spot of warm sun on the kitchen floor, but lifted her head as soon as he stepped in. She seemed to taste the air for long seconds before hissing: “Good morning. Are you feeling well? You smell strange.”
Harry blinked owlishly at her for a moment before answering: “I feel fine, my eyes are just hurting a bit.”
The snake tasted the air again and then gave him a slightly irritated look. Harry shrugged, not worrying too much about it. Snakes had a very keen nose and smelled every tiniest change in a body.
He went over to the refrigerator and fetched all the ingredients needed for pancakes; he wanted something sweet this morning. Nagini watched him mixing the ingredients. She finally made a very relaxed impression after all these days at his house, the life at Voldemort’s side must have been hard, maybe even more as his familiar than as one of his Death Eaters. As far as Harry could tell, the Death Eaters spent large amounts of time at home and only came to meet their psychotic master when the dark wizard called for them. Nagini in contrast, had had to stay all day in his manor, or wherever he lived.
“Nagini, how old are you and have you lived long with Voldemort?” Harry inquired curiously.
“I am 30 years old and have spend five years of the last war at his side and he found me again a few days ago,” the snake hissed.
“That is really old for a snake,” Harry mused and thought about the things she had just told him, happy to get his swirling thoughts away from Lucius. Voldemort must have gone after her as soon as he was back in his body. Harry could not imagine that a snake like Nagini would be easy to find, despite her size, but she carried a piece of his soul inside her, maybe that had made it easier for Voldemort.
“I am a magical creature, not a normal snake. 30 years are not very old for me and as soon as I am bonded, I will live as long as my master does,”Nagini pulled him from his thoughts.
“Does that mean, that you will die, if he does?”
“No, but if I had an nearly immortal master like the one who calls himself Voldemort, my live would be prolonged,” she explained.
“Familiars are very interesting creatures,” Harry said and shoved the finished pancakes onto a plate.
At that moment Lucius appeared on the staircase. He had his eyes narrowed like Harry earlier and made a somewhat grumpy impression, at least as far as someone could tell with such things about a Malfoy, and Harry was not very good at reading the hidden or subtle meanings behind their expressionless masks.
“I made pancakes,” Harry explained and put the plate on the small kitchen table. “I hope you at least eat something like pancakes.” He fetched maple syrup and two other plates before sitting down across from Lucius.
“It will do,” said the aristocrat stiffly and took his silverware.
Harry cut a piece from his portion and shoved it hungrily into his mouth, but then stopped and frowned. The pancake was nearly tasteless, even the syrup was. Had he forgotten the sugar? He looked over to the counter, but saw that there was less sugar in the container than before, so he had not forgotten. This morning was strange. Lucius seemed not to have noticed the unusual taste, but Harry knew that he must have; Lucius was just too perfect to not notice something like that. Ron maybe would not notice if he were really hungry, which he often was, but Lucius was definitely not Ron. It was more likely that the noble man had decided not to comment on the matter.
They ate in silence and Harry mused about the strange relationship they now had, glancing up at the aristocrat now and then. They seriously had to talk about everything, but somehow, he didn't dare to breach the topic, which was not so strange, considering who the person was he had to talk to. Maybe everything would become clear, if he just waited until they both had time to think about everything? Maybe the aristocrat would then make the first move and start a conversation? Or maybe Lucius would realize that it would be stupid to betray his master for a scrawny boy, if Harry gave him too much time, he was after all Voldemort’s right-hand man and surely had many benefits because of his rank among the Death Eaters, regardless in which illegal way they had occurred. Harry in contrast could offer him nothing for his help.
Suddenly his counterpart stood up, leaving his dirty plate behind on the table as usual and left the kitchen. Harry blinked in surprise; he had been so deep in thought that he had not noticed how long they had already been seated at the table.
He stood up and glanced around the corner to see what his guest was doing. Lucius was sitting in his usual spot on the couch once again reading another of aunt Petunias ridiculous novels. He snorted. Ron would have a field day if he ever told his friend that the noble aristocrat had spent his days reading sappy love stories. Maybe Harry would really tell Ron when they met the next time, it would surely be funny.
Eyeing the Malfoy Lord, Harry could not imagine that Lucius liked them very much, but the man seemed to dislike the television even more. His face was neutral, almost bored and his eyes scanned the pages only lazily. Harry couldn't resent the man for his lack of enthusiasm, these books were really rubbish. He would probably prefer Professor Bins over them.
Going back into the kitchen, Harry washed the dishes and decided to go outside like yesterday.
“Do you want to accompany me to the garden?” he asked Nagini, who uncurled and slithered ahead.
Lucius didn't even look up as he passed him and Harry got the feeling that the noble man had fallen asleep with open eyes, but surely, no Malfoy would do something like that, it would be undignified after all.
Opening the door to the back garden, he stepped outside and immediately flinched. The sun seemed far too hot on his skin this morning; it was like thousands of needles were piercing his flesh. Harry stumbled backwards and over the threshold, landing painfully on his butt, but luckily inside. He hissed in pain and rubbed his sore arms. Angry red spots had appeared on his bare skin and the skin had started to peel.
“What is it Harry?” Lucius had finally looked up from his book, apparently not asleep after all and was eyeing him critically. Harry lifted his hands self consciously to his face, were his skin was burning as well:
“I don't know. I stepped outside and it just started to hurt...”
Lucius came over to him and kneeled down. Harry was torn between crawling away and snuggling close, but the aristocrat took his arm and eyed it critically before he could make a decision. Lucius’ hand wrapped firmly around Harry’s biceps, but his skin was soft and warm. Harry gulped and averted his eyes, trying to hide the flush that threatened to creep up his neck again. What was he doing? Flushing over Lucius Malfoy of all people?
And why? Just because the man had showed Harry that he had a caring side as well? Harry felt so pathetic at the moment, just one moment of care and he got all flustered about a man he didn't even like. Or did he? Regardless of that confusing matter and how much he believed that Lucius had been honest last night, the Malfoy-Lord was still a Death Eater.
They had not talked about last night yet and had surely not made any contract or agreed to specific agreements, so he really should stop to flush over the man.
A thump stroked over the peeling skin of his forearm, pulling Harry effectively from his daze, before the man stood up in one fluid movement. Harry watched him going to the garden door and stretching his own arm out. With a hiss he pulled his arm back inside.
“Do you know what is happening?” Harry asked when he saw a flicker of uneasiness in the aristocratic eyes, forcing himself to concentrate on the important matter right now.
“I can only guess,” Lucius said and sat back down.
Harry got up and sat in his usual place in the armchair:
“Tell me.”
“Before we went to Kings Cross, the Dark Lord cast a curse on us,” Lucius began.
“You mean on his followers? Why would he do that?” Harry frowned. What good were followers, when you didn't even trust them? He would never understand Voldemort, or his loyal sidekicks for that matter.
“So that he would know if one of us tries to betray him, he was determined to kill or at least capture you this time. The curse will activate as soon as one of us betrays him”
“But you haven't betrayed him yet, have you?” Harry inquired, his voice a bit shaky, he a bad feeling creeping up his neck and that usually meant that a huge disaster was about to come.
“I believe, that my promise to help you already counts as betrayal in his eyes,” Lucius retorted neutrally.
Harry took a deep, calming intake of air; he would not start to panic...yet:
“What will the curse do and why am I suffering as well?”
“I think, due to our current binding, the curse has somehow connected to you as well.”
Harry felt his hand growing cold and sweaty. This sounded really bad, but he still refused to panic, after all, he knew some of the most powerful and intelligent wizards alive, one was currently sitting in his aunt’s neat living room with him. One of them would surely be able to help them.
“What will happen now?”
“I must admit, I do not know. The Dark Lord only explained to us that whoever betrays him, will pay dearly for it,” Lucius repeated his master’s words.
“Great, that sounds just like old snake face,” Harry grumbled. “There was no other hint?”
“No.”
“Is there a dark curse that will make the victim burn in the sunlight?” Harry questioned, somehow the concept sounded odd to his ears.
“I cannot imagine that. To curse someone to burn in the sunlight means that the victim would only have to stay in the house to stay alive. A dark curse would be not so... generous.”
“I guess you are right. After all, you are the expert of the Dark Arts in this room, not me and it really does sound too nice for something Voldemort would choose,” Harry muttered.
“We should try to distract ourselves. There is nothing for us to do but hope, that Severus will return soon,” Lucius announced.
“You are right,” Harry stood up and went over to the cupboard to retrieve a chess set that was still unopened. Why his relatives had bought a chess set in the first place, Harry could not imagine. He put the game down on the table between him and Lucius and started to unpack.
Lucius gave the board a disgusted look.
“This is chess, the only difference is that you have to move the pieces with your own hands,” Harry explained dryly. Sometimes the man’s hate for everything muggle was nearly funny. Was he just so lazy that he hated the idea of moving the pieces by hand? Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. Even with their fragile peace of last night, Lucius’ way of thinking would apparently not change.
“You said yourself that we should distract ourselves, I thought this would be the best way, but of course we could always clean the house,” Harry added with an evil smirk.
“We will play,” Lucius ordered, as if it had been his idea in the first place. Smiling, Harry gave Lucius the white pieces and set his own black ones on the board.
“I think it was a mistake to give me the white pieces, this way I will beat you even sooner,” Lucius drawled and turned the board around, so that Harry had the white side now in front of him.
He shrugged: “Just wanted to be polite. And just so you know, I usually play against Ron Weasley and he is the best player at Hogwarts.”
Lucius sneered: “I have heard about this little rumour, but I am unimpressed. Malfoys are always better in the end.”
“Sure, let's just get started.”
Harry quickly regretted his big mouth. Even with the advantage of the white pieces, Lucius had him with four moves.
“Check,” the aristocrat smirked and leaned back on the sofa, his hands folded elegantly in his lap.
“Revenge,” Harry growled and sat the pieces back in their places.
They played for nearly three hours, but Harry had not won a single game. Lucius had not exaggerated; he was really brilliant at the game, not even Ron would stand the slightest chance. Harry could admire this trait of Lucius Malfoy. Whilst his son was always just bluffing, his father could back his words up. Lucius was probably a real genius and Harry found himself wishing that he had just a bit of the man’s intelligence and natural skill in everything.
Their games came to a halt, when the fireplace suddenly sprang once again to life. This time, they didn't startle and just remained seated. A second later Severus Snape appeared in the green flames. The man lifted his trademark eyebrow, studying him, Lucius and the chess board between them with interest, when his dark eyes fell on the desk.
“Getting along?” he inquired in a drawling voice.
“Severus! Finally!” Lucius stepped over to the fireplace and Harry followed him hastily, curious about what had made the man forget his hate of the traitor so easily. Was it the fact that they might need help with the curse, or that they might be all on the same side now?
“Is something wrong?” Snape’s eyes had instantly narrowed, obviously able to read Lucius much better than Harry could.
“The Dark Lords curse has activated,” Lucius explained and Snape’s eyes widened comically.
“Do you want to tell me that you betrayed the Dark Lord for...” the dark man didn't finish his sentence, but his eyes shifted meaningfully to Harry.
Harry, feeling offended hissed: “I know, you cannot imagine that someone would ever help me, but I am not that bad.”
Snape ignored him, as per usual and turned to Lucius: “What has the curse done until now?”
“It burns our skin in the sunlight and I think our eyes are affected as well.”
Snape frowned: “That sounds strange, I think there will be more coming, but I have not much time. I connected Potter’s fireplace illegally to my own and I have still not succeeded in contacting Dumbledore inconspicuously. The Dark Lord is watching me closely, but I will visit you two tomorrow afternoon. It sounds, as if we three have much to discuss.”
Harry nodded in consent and so did the man next to him.
Snape took a deep breath and his eyes flickered shortly with a sad emotion, before speaking:
“I also have to tell you, Lucius, that the Dark Lord deems you a traitor. He has killed Narcissa and Draco.”
Harry saw Lucius’ back muscles tensing, but the man said nothing and just nodded. Frowning, Harry asked himself what kind of relationship the Malfoy-Lord had with his son and wife. It had probably been an arranged marriage, like so many marriages in Pureblood society, but that didn't mean that he would not have had any feelings for his wife and son. It was more likely that Lucius just didn't want to show any emotions in front of Harry that could be considered weak.
“Thank you for the message, Severus,” the noble man said stiffly and Snape took that as his sign to disappear again.
Not knowing what he should do, Harry watched the older man going over to the sofa and sitting down. Even with his perfect Malfoy mask he could not hide the pain in those silvery eyes, which were usually so emotionless.
The urge to sit down next to him overcame Harry and he followed his urge before sitting down cross- legged next to Lucius on the ground. He wanted to lay his head against Lucius knee, to show him his support, but didn't think that it would be appreciated, they were not that close.
“Why are you sitting on the floor?” Lucius asked him suddenly in a flat tone of voice.
Harry blinked a bit confused and noticed only then that he was sitting like a servant at his master’s feet.
“I...don't know...” he stammered, he had not noticed it himself.
“Then sit up, it is ungraceful to sit on the floor,” Lucius commanded with a drawling voice.
Harry nodded and stood up, only to look around with uncertainty. The urge to sit close to Lucius had not disappeared, it was a foreign feeling and he didn't know where it came from. Was it because of their shared night? Harry guessed so; he had never slept in another’s arms; neither with a relative, nor with a friend and certainly never with a girlfriend. So it probably was normal to feel confused and that he wished for a bit more of the comforting closeness.
Lucius padded the free space next to him and Harry hastily took the chance and accepted the offer. He left more space between their bodies than he currently wished for, but he had the slight feeling that he would overstep his boundaries if he sat too close to the man. From the corner of his eyes he studied Lucius, hopefully inconspicuously enough. The aristocrat stared with a blank expression at the opposite wall as if not seeing it, and Harry asked himself if it had been an conscious decision to offer him the seat next to him or not. His eyes were full of an unguarded pain and it hurt Harry to see the proud man so desperate.
Harry wanted to say something to comfort the man, but he knew that no words could lessen the pain of a lost family. Furthermore, he was not even sure if his words would be appreciated, they were not really friends, they were... Harry didn't know what either. It was so frustrating and irritating. He decided to collect all his Gryffindor bravery and say something, but at that moment, Lucius spoke:
“He has gone too far. Even if I had betrayed him, the Blacks have always been loyal followers of his cause; he should not have killed my wife and son. They should not be held responsible for my doings.” His eyes were blazing with rage and Harry saw that his elegant hands had balled into fists.
“You are right, but they don't care, all of them. It just doesn't matter as long as we fight for their cause. There is no real difference between the light side and the dark side concerning this matter.”
Lucius head snapped around and he looked Harry directly in the eyes. Harry gulped, Lucius gaze was so intense.
“You said you want to be on your own side.”
Harry nodded. What was the man getting at?
“Will you stay true to your words if someone would be willing to help you?” Lucius asked, his eyes piercing Harry’s very soul.
This was the point, where he had to decide if he was really ready to stand up for himself and maybe even betray his friends and family in some way. Harry didn't believe that what he was planning could be considered betrayal, but other people might think differently. So, would it be worth it? The press might start to bad-mouth him again and his fellow students might start to fear him once more, like they had done in his second year when everybody had believed that he was the heir of Slytherin. Closing his eyes, he made up his mind:
“If I get help, then I will end this war no matter what, and I will stop the senseless slaughtering of the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore. I don't believe that one side is in the right and the other in the wrong. The solution should be a compromise and not a war.... but...but I am not yet strong enough to do all that on my own,” Harry affirmed, answering Lucius fierce stare with an equally fiery one of his own.
“Then I will keep my word as well and support you. If there will ever be a leader that I trust again, it will be you,” Lucius said sternly, honesty vibrating in his velvet voice.
Harry felt his cheeks heat and his heart racing: “But I am still a child.”
“Indeed,” Lucius said and lifted his right hand to lay it on Harry’s cheek. “But you are wiser than all the others.”
Harry shivered under the caressing touch of Lucius’ thumb.
“I will never let someone needlessly die again,” the man whispered and Harry leaned into the warm hand for a moment. It felt so good. He closed his eyes, but Lucius pulled his hand away and Harry’s eyes fluttered back open.
Harry watched him standing up and pacing in the living room.
“We have to talk to Severus tomorrow and discuss our...your plans. You will need him. He is the best potions brewer and experienced in many other areas and that is without considering his general intelligence. I still cannot believe that he deceived me and our lord for so many years,” Lucius muttered, his eyebrows furrowed together in a very un-Malfoyish manner. “He really is even more intelligent than I have given him credit for.”
“Ok,” Harry said, feeling slightly overwhelmed. Had Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape and he just become allies? Or would the potions master not want to help him in the end? After all, they had never liked each other particularly.
He went back over to the sofa and a sudden delighted rush filled him, when Lucius sat down next to him. His body twitched, as if he wanted to scoot closer but he quickly stopped himself. What was wrong with him this morning? He glanced upwards from the corner of his eyes and stared at the strong chest for a moment, which was steadily rising and falling. Lucius’ button-down fitted all too well and was outlining every muscle perfectly when he sat. Harry’s heart started to hammer.
Suddenly their closeness seemed all too close and he felt heat creeping up his neck. Jumping up he stammered: “I...will go and clean a bit.”
He felt Lucius’ gaze on him the entire time until he had reached the staircase and was able to disappear around the corner. His departure really had been anything but subtle. Up in their shared bedroom, he picked up the man’s dirty Death Eater robe. Maybe he should not wash them, but burn them instead, they really were filthy and they didn't fit the man at all.
These robes were far to plain for a Malfoy; the man needed something more elegant and stylish, with silver clasps and buttons and maybe even some expensive embroidery. Thinking about this, their discussion from two days before about his style and his family inheritance came back to his mind. Back then, he had believed that Lucius just wanted to taunt him, knowing that there was no way that Harry knew much about his late family.
But maybe he had been wrong. The aristocrat was after all right about one point: He would inherit all the wealth, duties and obligations; that would mean he had to take care in some way or the other. Even Sirius had to deal with his family's investments and houses, as unwilling as he was and in the case of his godfather it had mostly meant that he had stopped most of the former investments and started new ones, because he refused to support dark wizards and unorthodox potions brewers.
But would that influence him in some way? Harry really couldn't believe that. Maybe a bit, but not much. And the theories that his blood had some kind of strange power still sounded like a Pureblood fairytale to his ears.
Bending down, he collected one of Lucius’ new jeans and the black button down; his guest was wearing the other things. He had nearly choked when he had first seen the aristocrat coming down in the black muggle jeans. True, they don't exactly fit his character, but they had clung to the right places, making the man’s legs seem endless and emphasizing his arse perfectly. He had blushed and turned away, embarrassed about his reaction, after all this was an older man. This last part, he should remember more often: Lucius Malfoy was not only a man, but about twenty years older than him.
For some strange reason Lucius Malfoy evoked these reactions and feelings in him he should not have and which he didn't dare to name or even try to think more closely about them. To his predicament they occurred more often daily and it was getting worrisome because he still liked the man; not very much, more than before their forced holiday together, but still by far too little to develop any kinds of feelings towards the man. Not even attraction. How could he have gone from being interested in nobody to flushing at the thought of the Malfoy patriarch? The most irritating thing was that he wasn't really interested, as far as he could tell his body just seem to do strange things without his consent.
Grabbing the laundry, he made his way back down again. The washer was down in the basement and as soon as he crossed the hallway on the ground floor, he felt silver eyes settling on him once again. Harry made the mistake of looking up and froze immediately. Those silver pools pierced his own green ones, and a strange gleam was deeply hidden inside them. What was it? It almost looked like...hunger?
But that couldn't be. He wasn't very experienced in relationship matters, but he knew that a noble man like Lucius would never be interested in him, not even if he had actually been old enough to be considered by a man in his mid-thirties. So what was it then?
They both acted so strange this morning. Was it because of Voldemort’s curse? That could mean a whole lot of problems, especially if Snape wouldn't show up until tomorrow as promised.
He quickly turned to the basement door and fled downstairs. Luckily Lucius didn't follow him and he went to the last room on the left side where the washer was located. Somehow the thought that the man might be interested in him, even though it was only because of the curse, frightened him. Only because he had developed a strange attraction to the aristocrat, that still didn't mean that he wished or felt ready to explore it further. He was only fifteen and absolutely inexperienced, he had not even received his first kiss yet.
But if he was right and the curse affected Lucius somehow, would the man advance on him? He would not stand a chance if Lucius tried anything. Taking a calming intake of breath, he reminded himself that he was getting ridiculous. Lucius would never do something like that. Not to him, a half-blood and scrawny boy with no appeal at all. And he would not worry about the curse either.
What type of curse would cause someone to burn in the sunlight and forced one of them to develop inappropriate feelings and fantasies? He had never heard about a curse like that and Harry was sure that it wasn't even possible, that such a strange curse could exist.
Opening the lid of the washer, he threw everything inside and started the loud device, before going back up into the living room again.
This time, Lucius did not watch him as soon as he came in sight. In fact, the man was looking outside with a somewhat far-away-expression and an aura of melancholy surrounded him.
The news of his family's death must have really shocked him. Who wouldn't have been shocked by such a message? But there were families, like the Weasley’s, who fought for generations against Voldemort and his followers and who always had to expect that one of their relatives would not come home one day. With Lucius Malfoy it was probably something else. As Voldemort’s right-hand man and with a born Black as wife, he had never expected to lose them, he had told Harry as much. Why a whole family had to die only because Voldemort thought that one of his followers had betrayed him was unexplainable to Harry.
“Umm...do you want do something?” Harry asked quietly, thinking that the wizard might appreciate some distraction, but he only said: “No,” without turning towards him.
Harry watched Lucius for a long moment. The man looked as if he needed some time alone.
“Call me, if you need something or just want some company. I will go upstairs,” he said softly and went up into Dudley’s room.
Lucius didn't call for him and in the end, Harry spend the afternoon playing with the Play Station again. The game was still very interesting and so he didn't notice how the hours flew by. Once or twice he had thought about checking on the aristocrat, but Lucius Malfoy was a very guarded man and would not appreciate being watched in his grief, and so Harry just stayed where he was.
When it was already half past one, he turned the console off and went into the bedroom. Lucius was still downstairs; he had hoped that he might find the man already asleep, but no such luck. His eyes fell on the cord on the night stand. Should he call for Lucius, so that he could bind their wrist together once again? But Lucius and he were allies now and Voldemort had just murdered his wife and son, so what reason would the aristocrat have to kill him in his sleep? Sighing, he decided to let the man be, at least for the night, and started to change into his night shirt.
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LM
Lucius still sat in the living room, staring off out the window. He blinked and noticed for the first time that it was already dark outside. A look at the clock told him, that it was already fairly late, he should go upstairs so that Harry could get some sleep, even when he would not find any rest this night; his thoughts were far too much in tumult. His whole world had shattered today and many of his beliefs with it. Sure, he still was a pureblood and believed in the superiority of his kind, but he could not believe that the Dark Lord was the right man to follow anymore.
Before the news of his family’s death, he was ready to betray his master for the sake of Harry. The innocent boy had touched his soul and his agony the night before had nearly ripped his heart apart, but he still had believed in Voldemort and his goals. He had only come to the realization that Harry was more important to him than the dark Lord, regardless of his trust in the man. But he could not believe in him anymore or even respect him.
Narcissa had been a Black daughter and he was sure that she would not have betrayed their master, even if she had found out about his betrayal and Draco had still been a child, too young to grasp all aspects of the war in their world, so there really had been no use in killing them.
When had the Dark Lord gone insane and why had he not realized it earlier? Looking back on the last weeks since his resurrection, Lucius clearly saw, that he and his family, as
well as every other Death Eater had been in great danger since the graveyard. Fifteen years ago, Voldemort had already used the Cruciatus curse to punish his followers, but not as often and extensively.
But his realization had come far too late. Sure, he could give Harry the blame for himself changing his mind and betraying his master, but the decision to grasp onto Harry at Kings Cross had been his and Voldemort could not know without a doubt that he had betrayed him yet. He had just made assumptions and killed Draco and Narcissa in spite of it.
Harry had been right all along, he could clearly see it now: None of the great leaders in this war were concerned about their followers.
Sighing, he stood up and made his way up the stairs. Harry would surely want to bind their wrist together and he could not even blame the boy for not trusting him very much.
Harry Potter was another issue on his mind. In the last couple of days, he had slowly started to think differently about the boy, but the turning point had been their conversation at the ice parlour and then again last night. But he had not only started to understand and sympathize with the boy, he had also started to watch him closely, as if his eyes were drawn to the petite body. With shock he had noticed several very appealing things about the child: like his bright, green eyes, his cute and very innocent smile, his arousing flushes, the long legs he possessed in spite of his general very short height and much, much more.
Lucius stepped into the bedroom then and his mind blanked before he could finish his train of thoughts. Harry was changing for the night and currently stood only in his tight, black boxers, which hugged his small round buttocks perfectly.
Suddenly an animalistic urge overwhelmed him, far stronger than anything he had felt during the day. With two long strides he was behind the small child and shoved him roughly onto the bed, pinning him flat against the mattress with one hand in the small of his back. His cock throbbed hot and painfully in his restricting trousers and he growled in overwhelming need. He had to take the boy. Harry was his. His to dominate and to take pleasure from. With a rough yank he ripped the boxers from the youth’s quivering body. The boy started to squirm beneath him, but a low growl let him fall limp and submissively against the sheets.
Gripping the child's arse cheeks, he dug his nails into the soft and creamy skin, bruising it. He kneeled down behind the child and filled his nostrils with the alluring scent of Harry Potter. The boy tasted like honey and sun and something that was uniquely Harry. Lucius rejoiced in the closeness to his mate, he could smell and taste the boy's virginity from this close.
Harry was still shaking, but Lucius ignored it for the moment, the child was his submissive and a submissive had to be taken with force, at least, the first time. He stretched the arse cheeks apart and licked his lips, before burying his nose in the crevice and inhaling once more. Then he stretched his tongue out and started to lick the puckered opening.
The boy beneath him started to pant and a satisfied smirk stretched across his face, whilst he licked the inner walls of the quivering child, it would not do for his mate to receive no pleasure at all. His submissive tasted so good and he could feel his heat and tightness around his wet muscle, he wanted to bury himself into him, but it was not yet time. One hand sneaked around the small body and beneath it, searching for his mates cock. When he had found the appendage, he grabbed it tightly and started to stroke it with slow and firm movements.
The boy’s penis was only half erect and he could cover it completely with his hand. It felt smooth and was not yet as developed as an adult’s member would be, but it did not matter much to Lucius that his mates cock was still rather small, the boy was after all his submissive and would never penetrate him, neither he nor the child would ever want that, it was not in their nature. When the boy’s virgin member was fully erect, he withdrew his tongue from his quivering and clenching hole and stood up. His mate lay perfectly still, knowing, that he should not move right now. Without averting his eyes from his body, Lucius unzipped his trousers and pulled them down, before stepping out of them and pulling his button-down over his head. He let it fall unceremoniously to the ground and looked down at himself.
His cock stood tall and proud with smooth skin. His own body was hairless as his mate's , due to a Veela who had married into his family, back in the middle ages, and some traits still remained, including the hairless gene, the nearly white hair and his unique eye colour. Lucius knew that his sex was huge, many former lovers had shied away from it in the beginning of their affairs, but in the end, it had always given them pleasure.
His eyes fixed on his mate again and he stepped once again behind him, before gripping the slender hips and thrusting inside, without further warning or preparation.
°ºooº°°ºooº°°ºooº°°ºooº°°ºooº°
HP
Harry heard Lucius coming into the bedroom, when he was just stepping out of his trousers. Wanting to cover his upper body quickly, he didn't turn around. He had not forgotten the hungry glances Lucius had given him earlier or the strange tenseness between him and the aristocrat.
He was glad for every minute he could delay the point where he had to turn around, afraid of what he would see in those silver orbs. He had not planned on Lucius coming up when he was in the midst of changing, or he would have gone into the bathroom, just to be safe; even so, he still didn't believe that Lucius would do anything to him. But alone with the man, well past midnight and nearly naked, he started to doubt his reasoning. If there was really a curse working inside of Lucius, anything could happen and it surely would not be anything good.
Suddenly he was roughly shoved onto the bed. Harry yelped, and tried to quickly scramble back to his feet, but a strong hand descended on his back and held him down. At the next moment his boxers was ripped from his body and panic began to cloud his mind. Harry started to squirm harder; he had to get free, before Lucius could hurt him. What did the man have planned?
A low growl reached his ears and his body fell limp. A sudden, new awareness had entered his mind, like an instinct and all the glances and looks he had received from the man; even his need to be close to him, suddenly made sense. Lucius Malfoy was his mate and they had just been stuck in the phase where their instincts realized the fact, and they slowly and carefully checked the waters, so to speak. But now they both had realized it and he had to lie still, because Lucius was his dominant and about to mate with him, to seal their destined bond forever. It was the man’s right and duty to claim him and it had to be forcefully the first time, because a dominant must have the strength at least to overpower his submissive by their first mating.
So Harry relaxed all his muscles, as if he was nothing more than a lifeless puppet. His dominant seemed to be pleased with his submission because Lucius strong hold on his back lessened a bit, just a bit, but enough for Harry to understand the message. He heard rustling and a deep intake of breath. Lucius had crouched down behind him and his nose was nuzzling his arse cheeks. Harry was still shaking all over, he knew, that this was his mate, his dominant, and even though he would be rough, he would never harm him, but that didn’t mean that part of his young, inexperienced mind did not fear the upcoming encounter.
The fact, that his dominant was so much taller and stronger than him and that this strong man would soon take his body, overwhelmed his mind shortly, but then all this thoughts were quickly driven away by his instincts, telling him that everything would be fine and that it would feel good.
Lucius nosedived into his crevice and he could feel a warm breath of air, when his mate inhaled for a second time. And then suddenly there was a warm wetness at his entrance, licking and sucking it and now he was trembling for a whole different reason. This felt so good; he had never felt anything like it. Harry wanted to get nearer to his dominant's tongue, he wanted to feel the hot muscle inside of him, tasting him, but this was their first mating, an ancient ritual and he had no place in actively taking part in it right now. There would be other times for that, at least, if his dominant would allow him.
As if his mate had read his thoughts, the hot muscle slid inside him and a moan tore from Harry’s throat. His mate was licking and massaging the inside of him and it felt as if someone had given him an aphrodisiac. In his ignorant, virgin mind, Harry thought that this was the best of pleasure and then his mate's strong hand gripped his penis and his vision erupted with white stars. The tingling sensation that had started when his mate had begun to lick his hole grew stronger and he could feel his member becoming harder with every stroke his dominant made.
He moaned in displeasure when his mate released his cock and retreated, but before he could voice his disappointment again, his mate's hands returned to his hips and his thick shaft entered him in one powerful thrust. Harry cried out in pain and pleasure at the same time. He could feel his skin ripping from his mate's thickness and brutal force, but at the same time an overwhelming feeling of belonging filled him. Harry felt, as if he had missed a piece of his soul, without even knowing it, and had found it after many years.
And then his mate began to move inside him. His body was rocked back and forth by the quick and powerful thrust. He felt his dominant shift a little and Lucius hit something deep inside him. Harry’s back arched, as if it wanted to break in two and he hissed in pleasure. His mate must have noticed his sound of pleasure, or his tightening around his cock, because he drove his thick shaft with every inward thrust against the same bundle of nerves, hitting it hard. The tingling feeling in Harry’s stomach grew even stronger and his own small cock was pulsing hotly in his dominants hand, whilst his heart was racing madly in his chest. Harry’s young, virgin body felt, like it wanted to go mad under the onslaught of sensations.
Lucius’ free hand slid from his hip to under his chest and pinched a nipple hard, before pulling Harry's body up and flush against his own. The changed angle drew his mate’s throbbing member further into his tight body, the pounding against his sensitive prostate became almost painfully, but it was a pleasurable pain and his eyes crossed. Lucius pinched his nipple again and Harry could feel his hole was clenching around his mates thick shaft and the heat was rising in his lower abdomen to nearly unbearable degrees.
His mate was close as well; his cock was pulsating inside him, sending shivers through his entire body. Lucius yanked his right hand roughly backwards, licking the back of it once, before laying his own right hand in front of him. Harry knew instinctively what he had to do. Long fangs grew from his gums and at the moment where he felt his mate climaxing inside of him and his own release was torn from his body, he grabbed his dominant’s hand and sunk his fangs into it, until he tasted blood.
His mate’s blood tasted like the richest and sweetest wine, or at least, like what he would imagine wine to taste. There were no words to describe the taste of his mate’s life energy and magical power in the red liquid; it was, like tasting heaven.
Harry drank, until his and his mate’s climax had ended, before pulling his fangs out and licking once over the bleeding wounds. Black lines were appearing on the back of his mate’s hand, but he didn't pay it much attention when his mate pulled out of him and fell exhausted onto the mattress. Harry was pulled against his dominant's strong body and he snuggled against the strong chest, before falling asleep instantly.
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A Different Kind of Hero