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The Night With Stars	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Lucius Views: 9544 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Six—After Dinner



            Harry watched Lucius put down his soup spoon, and felt a moment’s grudging respect. Lucius had wanted to come here in the first place, and Harry had assumed he had something important to discuss. But Lucius hadn’t slurped his soup, or hurried through his meal, or done anything else to show that he was impatient.

            Harry hadn’t been so polite. He tore off the last scrap of bread and tossed it into his mouth, then stood up. “Do you want a drink?”

            “Only if you have refined Firewhisky. And I don’t suppose you do?”

            Harry snorted and relaxed before Lucius’s raised eyebrows. “Of course not. I have better things to spend my money on than a drink that costs half a month’s pay for most people and tastes like horse piss set on fire.”

            Lucius laughed at that, and Harry was surprised. It wasn’t that good a joke. “Then you have tasted it. But over time, some acquire the taste.” He smiled at Harry and moved so he was in a comfortable chair by the fire, but not the most comfortable, the one Harry usually took. “Water will do if you have an uncontrollable desire to slake my thirst.”

            Harry, about to Summon a glass that he could fill with an Aguamenti charm, paused. Lucius had said the words in an ordinary tone of voice, as far as he could make out. But still, there was something there, an edge, that hadn’t been there during his few words of dinner conversation.

            Harry Summoned the glass and conjured the water anyway, because he had promised. Presumably Lucius would get to his business sooner or later.

            He handed Lucius the glass, and he drank in small, neat sips that brought a smile to Harry’s face. Lucius asked without anything more than a tipped-up eyebrow what was funny.

            “You just have much better manners than I do,” Harry said. He remembered his last trip to the Leaky Cauldron with Ron and winced. “I’ve been reliably informed that I sound like a dog trying to get the last drops out of its bowl.”

            Lucius didn’t smile, but he did put down the glass and watch Harry calmly, attentively. “I know what I want,” he said. “I learned manners because my parents wished me to, and they used to be more important in casual interactions than they are now. Now my main use for them is political, but they’re too close to the bone for me to give them up.”

            Harry nodded. “I know. I didn’t mean I wanted you to be rude—”

            Lucius held up a hand. Harry fell silent again, and Lucius gave him a smile as faint as winter sunlight. “So. Manners have only an indirect influence on what I came here to discuss.” He leaned across the distance between their chairs and tugged Harry’s left sleeve back. The gesture was so unexpected that Harry let him, and then sat there looking down as Lucius traced a finger along the scar he’d shown the Wizengamot earlier that day.

            Harry gasped and shivered. The feeling was like the pulling around a cut, except this time, it was pleasurable.

            Lucius looked up into his eyes, letting his finger stay on the bottom of the scar. “I did not think you should show them this.”

            “I r-remember that.” Harry cursed himself for the stutter. “I didn’t understand why.”

            “Because they would not understand,” Lucius said, and Harry nodded, feeling a stab of disappointment at the pragmatic answer. “And because I am the only one who should see them.” He bent down and slid his tongue out of his mouth as casually as he had when he was drinking his water from the glass, licking up along the scar.

            Harry had never been dizzy with how hard he was, but he was now. He reached out and grabbed Lucius’s hair, yanking. Lucius bent with the motion, but didn’t take his mouth away from Harry’s arm.

            Harry pulled again, and this time Lucius turned to face him, his eyes calm and his face brilliant with the smile that wasn’t there but could be. “Why?” Harry asked, holding back the stutter that wanted to appear in his speech by sheer force of will. “This isn’t—some plan of seduction. I know it. So what do you want?”

*

            Ah, he still thinks of the politics first. Well, it makes sense that he would.

            Since Potter—Harry, Lucius thought he would call him from now on—had touched his hair, Lucius did the same, curling a crisp black tangle around his finger. He smiled a little when he found the magic invested in it. It made sense that Harry’s hair would be hard for him to brush if he had that much power leaking out. It had to go somewhere, and some went into making his head untamable.

            “I want to express my attraction to you,” Lucius said. “It is brought about by the plans we have made together, but not wholly born of them. Or because of them.” He took Harry’s hand, moved back a little, and kissed the palm, firmly holding Harry’s eyes. There was a faint scar on the palm, too, and something rougher than that on the back. Lucius would find out where those had come from. “And I want to sleep with you. You don’t look as if you would object.”

            For a moment, Harry let his lips flutter, and Lucius absorbed the sight as greedily as he had the image of the scar. And then Harry frowned a little and looked at him with disappointingly clear eyes.

            “There are two things you should know,” he said. “Well, three. First, I don’t intend to let this interfere with our plans at all.”

            “Of course not. If we have a personal quarrel, I would expect to move past it to focus on our goals, and I would expect the same from you.”

            Harry nodded. “Good. The other two things are that I haven’t found a man attractive before, and I haven’t slept with anyone.”

            Lucius paused. He could feel the jumping of his cheek muscles as though someone had catapulted a Stunning Curse past him. Enough to make him stare, not enough to make his jaw drop.

            Even though he would have liked to. He had made choices long ago that made it impossible, however.

            “How?” he asked, and trailed another finger over the scar on Harry’s arm, for the pleasure of watching him arch.

            But his eyes remained bright and calm and steady, and focused on Lucius, and he answered the right question out of the many he could have thought Lucius was asking. “There was the war. And everyone telling me I had certain expectations to fulfill, and nightmares of Voldemort, and constant classwork, and death, and grief. Then, since the war, there’s been the trials, and the struggle to try and get Muggleborns the same rights as pure-bloods, and lately this cause. I spent three months alone trying to persuade the Ministry that they should really monitor the homes Muggleborn children come from more consistently. And it’s only been two years since the war.”

            Harry looked at him suddenly like a hawk, which Lucius would have admired ordinarily, but not when he wanted that person to be panting with pleasure. “Can you accept that I’m that young? Only twenty. That’s something you haven’t mentioned, but I reckon it would deter people more determined than you.”

*

            Lucius was silent. Harry waited. It felt as though someone had taken his heart out of his chest, stretched it, and then put it back inside.

            It hadn’t beaten this way before. But Harry was sure he would survive if Lucius decided that the burden of initiating a twenty-year-old virgin was too much to take on.

            It would hurt, but what didn’t?

            Lucius finally answered softly, his eyes almost abstracted, as though he was seeing something besides Harry. “There is no one more determined than me.”

            Harry managed to smile. “A funny answer, but I’ll need more than that.”

            Lucius leaned forwards slowly. Harry would have been afraid he would fall out of his chair, but as far as he knew, that could never happen to Lucius. So he simply sat still, and after a moment, Lucius relaxed with a little cluck of his tongue.

            “I am surprised that you are not yet intimate,” said Lucius. He spoke the same way he had done when he was discussing the advantages of investigating Muggleborn children’s homes with Harry, and Harry relaxed. This was the best possible way Lucius could have reacted, honestly. “But if you think I should find someone nearer my own age, or who has spent time before with a man…”

            He reached out and caught Harry abruptly behind his neck, and pulled Harry close to him, standing as he did. Harry tensed, his magic storming around him for a second. He knew from experience it would surround him with a whirling golden pinwheel that would darken steadily as he pulled in the power to attack the one who had startled him.

            “Then you are wrong,” Lucius finished, and kissed him soundly.

            Harry could tell Lucius knew what he was doing. That made him tense a little more, because he didn’t.

            But Lucius didn’t seem to mind, and Harry’s magic relaxed as Lucius conveyed that to him. He eased Harry down into his chair again and bent over him, using his tongue in subtle movements that drove Harry mental. But he wouldn’t go faster than that, not even when Harry wound his fingers in his hair.

            So Harry got back at him and did the one thing that Lucius wouldn’t be able to imitate. He tightened the piece of his magic he had given to protect Lucius, making him feel as if heavy, warm fur was crowding him from the sides and making his bare skin itch where it rippled against him.

            Lucius drew back at once. Perhaps he had taken the power as a threat. But from the way he looked at Harry, that wasn’t it.

            “I am remiss,” Lucius said. “If you can still concentrate hard enough to do something like that, then I am not kissing you well.” He drew his wand and conjured a thick blanket, the tangible equivalent of Harry’s magic, sprawling it on the floor. It was the color of a grey leopard’s fur, the rosettes gleaming and shining. “Come—Harry.”

            The name was a challenge, a taunt, a question. Harry answered it with a tilt of his neck and a smile, and then lay down on the fur, stretching his arms over his head. The fur was wider and longer than he was. “A good choice,” he murmured, as he sat up and began to strip his clothes over his head.

            Lucius watched him with lazy desire, only reaching out and touching each new scar as Harry revealed it. Harry huffed warmly over his fingers. They quivered, with the barest motion. Lucius chuckled and curled up against his side the moment he was done.

            “Now,” he said.

            “Not now,” Harry retorted, moving away. “Or did you forget that you still have clothes on?”

            From the swift glance downwards Lucius gave, Harry thought he had, and was smugly flattered. But then Lucius laughed a little and said, “Forgive me my remissness,” before he leaned back to take his robes off.

            “Is remissness a word?”

            “Is that a question you should be asking when I’m about to give you your first sight of a bare chest?”

            Harry laughed outright as he watched Lucius undo the finicky buttons with, again, small motions of his fingers. Harry reckoned he could have opened them all in a few seconds with a spell, but he enjoyed bathing in Harry’s eager regard. “I’ve seen plenty of bare chests. Just in the context of changing after Quidditch and Ron getting careless over whether he was dressed when he wandered into the bathroom. Yours will have to be something really special to change that.”

            “I think it will be,” said Lucius, keeping his eyes on his fingers and the buttons as though they were the most important things in the universe.

            Even knowing that it was probably a tactic to make him squirm and wish for Lucius’s attention back on him didn’t prevent Harry from frowning. “Why?”

            Lucius looked up, eyes bright with desire, and said, “Because it is mine,” and then pulled his robe away.

            Harry caught his breath. Because Lucius was right. A chest by itself, muscles and skin and a few old scars, wouldn’t have enthralled Harry, but this was the one that breathed out Lucius’s breath and gleamed with sweat caused by Harry being there in front of him and changed tempo when Harry touched it.

            “Yes, it’s special,” Harry admitted, meeting Lucius’s eyes.

            Lucius smiled a little and bent down, kissing him. His hair fell around Harry’s neck, and even though it tickled a bit, Harry didn’t wish it away. And it was better when their bare chests touched, and the spiral forming in the middle of his groin…

            “A bit slower,” Harry gasped. “Or this is going to end early.”

            “Does it matter when it ends?” Lucius asked, between slow bites that left Harry no time to answer as he paused. “When it will repeat again?” He drew back to consider Harry with intense, unsmiling scrutiny, and then he kissed him again, and drew his head back, and pressed down.

            Harry cursed a little as the spiral turned to something sharp and urgent, and he would have fought free if he hadn’t believed Lucius. This would happen more than once. Which…made it all right. Lucius wouldn’t laugh at him when he’d been warned, wouldn’t despise Harry for letting something happen that he’d caused.

            Harry yielded to the pleasure. It took longer than he’d imagined for him to arch up and shudder against Lucius, and fall back on his fur, gasping.

            “There,” Lucius said, in a voice so deep Harry couldn’t make out the emotion in it, and then he reached down and traced his finger over Harry’s groin. Harry shut his eyes hard at the impact of a nail on oversensitive skin. Lucius pulled back.

            “I have some things left to teach you,” Lucius said, and then he reached out and got Harry’s wrist. Harry snapped back to awareness, because once again Lucius had found a scar to trace, and no one had ever told Harry they could tingle so much. Then again, not many people had ever touched him on his scars. “Do this for me.”

            He arranged Harry’s hand between them and moved so their groins touched more directly. Harry found Lucius’s cock with his hand, then with his gaze as he slewed his head to the side and looked down; Lucius hadn’t been wearing anything but robes. His cock was long and pale, and Lucius closed his eyes when Harry touched him. He let out a soft, long-drawn grunt as Harry gripped him and moved his hand back and forth.

            “This is pretty easy,” Harry said, staring up into Lucius’s hazy eyes, how they fluttered and fell still and opened again. “Ron told me once how hard it was to please a woman—”

            “I would prefer that you not bring your friends into bed with us.” Lucius’s teeth sawed on his tongue for a moment, and then he rolled to the side so he was no longer directly on top of Harry, but beside him on the fur. His breath was short and fast, which made it all the more remarkable that he could speak the long, flowing sentences he did. “In any capacity.”

            Harry had to laugh. “All right. Then we—”

            He didn’t have time for any more words as Lucius rolled back and pinned both Harry’s hand under his body and Harry’s mouth under his. Harry gave in without a murmur, and arched his legs around Lucius’s hips.

            It was surprisingly nice, even given that he’d already come, rolling and rocking there and trying to make Lucius come. Trying, because Lucius had an infuriating amount of control. It might have embarrassed Harry even more, but at least he’d warned Lucius about being a bloody virgin, and Lucius had gone ahead and wanted to have sex with him anyway.

            And…

            Lucius had pink creeping into his cheeks now. His eyelashes were fluttering, even though he also kept forcing his eyes open to focus on Harry. Then he let loose a long, low hiss and thrust harshly with his hips, and Harry felt the flood of wetness on his hand.

            Not disgusting. Not that Harry had spent a lot of time thinking about what it would be like to make love to a man, but still.

            Lucius didn’t collapse, even though Harry was sure the temptation would have been overwhelming for him. Instead, he held himself up on his arms above Harry and bent down to kiss him one more time, and then lay back beside him.

            “You did not warn me of that.”

            “What? And you didn’t warn me about cramp,” Harry added, trying to shake out his wrist.

            Lucius gave him an absent smile. “The way your magic pounded through me at the—moment.”

            “Oh, is someone too shy to say the word orgasm?”

            Lucius ignored that. “It was as though the blanket you gave me tightened and rolled me back and forth.”

            “Well, I wouldn’t know about that one way or the other, because you’re my first lover, remember?” Harry reached out and tapped Lucius on the nose. “I can’t exactly ask other people who didn’t exist about experiences they didn’t have.”

            Lucius’s breath caught hard for a second. Then he sat back and seized Harry’s arm and turned it again to kiss the scar he had shown the Wizengamot.

            “And only,” he whispered.

            Since he kissed Harry in the next second, Harry didn’t think about those words right away. But when they were in bed—still with Lucius’s cleaned, conjured fur wrapped around them, because it was remarkably comfortable—Harry frowned a little at the ceiling.

            Even when this project does reach the point where Lucius is bored with it or doesn’t want to delve into it anymore?

            In the end, Harry had to shake his head and close his eyes. He had ideas about what might happen tomorrow when they met with Zabini and a small crowd of “interested” people, as Zabini called them, but none about what might happen years in the future.

            Lucius’s arm curled over him was awfully warm, though, and Harry had enjoyed himself a lot, and Lucius kept pulling Harry back towards him whenever he rolled over in his search for a comfortable position, until at last Harry decided the most comfortable position was resting with his nose against Lucius’s flank. So there was that.

*

            Severus1snape: Thank you!

            autumngold: With the mood Lucius was in, he would probably have raised his eyebrows at Ron and Hermione, given them a chance to leave—because he’s polite—and then gone on right on seducing Harry in front of them if they wouldn’t.
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The Night With Stars