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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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Thank you again for all the reviews! This is the last chapter of this story. I hope everyone’s enjoyed it.

Chapter Eight—Openness

            “You were magnificent today, you know.”

            Harry laughed. Lucius glanced at him, no more than an exploratory touch of a glance, but Harry knew what he wanted, and gave the explanation. “I was going to say the same thing about you. I mean, the exact same wording. I wondered whether you read it out of my head.”

            “I am not a Legilimens.” Lucius wandered around the kitchen table towards him, still holding the celebratory glass of mead Harry had given him in one hand. “There are times it would be a useful talent, but now I am glad that I am not.” This time, his free hand came up in the exploratory touch, and wandered around the corners of Harry’s eyes and down his cheeks.

            “Why is that?” Harry whispered.

            “Because it would tell me all your thoughts when I looked into your eyes, and I want to savor some of them.”

            Lucius put the glass of mead down on the table—he would probably never drank anything Harry gave him unless Harry improved his own taste in alcohol a lot, Harry supposed—and let his other hand rise. His thumbs hardly touched Harry’s skin. It didn’t matter. It still made Harry feel like he’d had a dozen glasses of mead.

            He leaned up and kissed Lucius before he could give Harry some other compliment that would dizzy him further. Lucius opened his mouth in what might have been a surprised gasp, but in seconds it had become simply a kiss, and he licked delicately around Harry’s tongue.

            Harry let Lucius turn him so his back was to the table and lean him against it, fingers skimming under his clothes, seeking and finding more scars. Harry hissed as they sprang to life under Lucius’s hands. “How can you make them so sensitive?” he asked, as his mouth spasmed away from Lucius’s so he could gasp.

            “They were always that sensitive,” Lucius said, a blatant lie as he trailed his hands back and forth. “They only needed the right one to call them forth.”

            “Pretty confident, aren’t you?” Harry shuddered as Lucius coaxed sensation from even the scar on his right arm where Wormtail had cut him for the blood Voldemort needed long ago.

            “I can be. You have welcomed me in.”

            Lucius moved back up to his face, and specifically his lips. He kissed Harry until his head spun again, and made his legs weaken with a careful push on the small of his back. Harry sprawled on the table and looked up through eyes he knew were hazy as Lucius bent over him.

            Lucius did take the time to move his glass of mead out of the way, which made Harry grin. He shook his head, presumably at the expression on Harry’s face, as he put his wand away. “I do not want to have to deal with petty distractions while kissing you.”

            “What about other kinds of distractions?” Harry asked, and managed to move his foot, even though he was almost lying down, so he could run a foot up the back of Lucius’s leg.

            Lucius’s face changed—slightly, but it was as good as a shout. Harry reached up and caught his hair, tangling it around his fingers on purpose, before pulling his head down and kissing his cheek. Lucius tried to turn his head and kiss him on the lips, but Harry muttered and held him still.

            “No. Now I want to sit in your lap and kiss you.”

*

            He does not act like a virgin.

            And Lucius held some fondness for that fact. It would have been tiresome, he had to admit, to wait for Harry to get over shyness and stammering and blushing. It had taken long enough with Narcissa, when they were first together.

            Harry did everything differently than Lucius had imagined, it turned out. He sat straddling his lap, facing him, instead of sideways, and he gave him the sort of considering look and grin that filled Lucius’s mouth with saliva like the smell of hot mustard did. Then he leaned forwards and kissed him on the nose, the cheek, the chin, and the other cheek.

            “Harry.”

            “Tsk, Lucius, so undignified.”

            Lucius didn’t think he sounded undignified, and he opened his mouth to say so. But Harry hushed him by the simple expedient of tracing one finger down from the corner of his eye to his mouth, the path a teardrop would take. Lucius found himself falling silent in sheer wonder.

            “Thank you,” Harry whispered. “Thank you for teaching me that there’s so much pleasure in having someone else touch me.”

            Lucius was unsure what he could have said in response to that, and as it turned out, he didn’t need to come up with something. Harry’s hand found its way into his hair, and he stroked once, twice, fingernails rubbing on his scalp in a way that made Lucius’s eyes close in a languid blink. Then Harry bowed his head and licked a strip of skin running up from Lucius’s chin close to his eye, the path his fingers had already followed.

            Lucius caught Harry’s hand and kissed the palm, turned it to the side, and kissed the back. Then he stood up, sliding Harry gently to the floor and looked pointedly towards the door on the other side of the fireplace.

            “I suppose you want to do it in a bed this time. Now you’re over-dignified.”

            Lucius didn’t bother to respond to that. Anything he said would only give Harry more food for laughter—and while Lucius didn’t mind that, precisely, there were more important things he wanted to do right now. He wrapped his arm around Harry’s back and nudged him along with little steps until Harry got the idea and walked on his own, head cocked back so he could laugh soundlessly at Lucius.

            The bedroom was plain, as Lucius had expected, although not bare. Harry had one empty portrait frame on the wall above the fireplace, which was made of white stone, and a door to the side that led to a bathroom. The bed was wooden, shaped a little like the four-posters of Hogwarts, but uncarved and without a canopy or curtains. The pillows were the only fanciful touch; there were four of them, yellow and blue and red and green, and each one shaped like the animal of the Hogwarts House associated with that color.

            Lucius gave the green snake—which had huge bulging eyes and a dopily hanging tongue—a level look and moved it out of the way. Harry lay back on the plain white sheets and let his legs dangle, grinning at him.

            “Over-dignified. I knew it.”

            Lucius hushed him by the simple act of touching that scar on his arm, which seemed to be the most sensitive one, and holding it there while he took Harry’s clothes off with his other hand. When he finally had to take his hand away because he couldn’t move the sleeve off Harry’s arm otherwise, Harry was bright-eyed and silent and as red as his lion pillow.

            Lucius undid his own robes with help. Well, “help.” Harry’s feet played along his hips and smoothed up and down the silken material over his legs as he worked the buttons loose.

            “You are ridiculous,” Harry whispered by the time Lucius was lying down naked beside him. Harry seemed to enjoy finding the few scars on Lucius’s chest, souvenirs of the first war, and following each of them to the end.

            Conscious of the heat that played in ember-colored flames around his eyes, Lucius shook his head. “Ridiculous and dignified are not the same thing.”

            “But ridiculous and over-dignified might be.”

            “Any word you repeat too often becomes boring,” Lucius murmured, and had the satisfaction of seeing Harry’s mouth clap closed. But then Harry lay there and mock-scowled at him through several touches on his scars, which prompted Lucius finally to lean towards him and whisper, “Although I assure you that you are the least boring person it has ever been my pleasure to find.”

            “Find? What do you do, go around discovering them like treasures?” Harry stretched lazily, smiling at Lucius, and held up his arms so Lucius could tickle the sensitive areas underneath them. Harry’s breathing sped up, but still he didn’t stutter, an achievement Lucius found impressive. “And h-how many people have you been with?”

            “You should ask, not how many I have been with, but how many I am going to stay with?” Lucius found an otherwise undistinguished spot on Harry’s left side that would make him jerk and kick like a nervous horse when he kissed it.

            “Well, all right,” Harry said. Finally, a little breathlessness. He reached out and tangled his fingers in Lucius’s hair. “How many?”

            “One. The one I am with now.”

            The appreciative widening of Harry’s eyes and the way he immediately tried to slam their mouths together was no more than Lucius had expected, but gratifying to see anyway.

*

            Lucius prepared him with gentle fingers. Harry liked that, and arched against his fingers a few times, stretching his arms out and murmuring as he watched Lucius smear lube on his hand and on Harry’s hole and his cock.

            “No one else has touched you here,” Lucius murmured.

            “Of course not. If I’m a virgin, then—”

            “I was reassuring myself.”

            Harry blinked. “Oh,” was all he could find to say. He didn’t know why Lucius should need to reassure himself, but as long as it was that and not doubting Harry, then Harry could let it go.

            Lucius opened him up, and Harry sucked on his tongue and then on Lucius’s fingers when he offered them. It wasn’t—painful, exactly. It was that Harry had never imagined that particular sensation, and it took him a while to frown through it and get used to it. But he nodded the minute Lucius asked if he was ready.

            “You cannot be sure of that, not yet,” Lucius said, and his fingers played restlessly along Harry’s arse.

            “Then by all means, go on.” Harry grinned at him. “It isn’t like this is awful and I shall repine if you don’t fuck me immediately.”

            Lucius’s nostrils flared, and he swayed nearer as if inspired by Harry’s voice. Harry watched him in fascination. There was something wonderful about seeing one of the most powerful men he knew bow to the influence of his voice.

            “Patience,” Lucius said, to someone who might have been either himself or Harry, and then went back to preparing Harry with careful motions of his fingers.

            Harry closed his eyes. The sensation had become a little more familiar, and he liked it. At least if it was the prelude to Lucius getting closer to him, and Lucius’s breaths were falling over his hips and now and then stuttering when Harry gave a little flex of his hips.

            Of course, Harry could hardly imagine something more intimate than this, but that just made him more excited. If he couldn’t imagine it, he thought it would be all the more powerful when Lucius was finally inside him.

            Lucius satisfied himself of Harry’s readiness, or perhaps—this was the interpretation Harry preferred—decided that he couldn’t hold back any longer. He reared up and slid his slick cock slowly towards Harry, watching him with narrow eyes all the while as if he expected Harry to leap up suddenly with shrieks about his virtue.

            But Harry, not being a damsel in a novel, wriggled encouragingly, and Lucius slid inside instead and stopped with a vicious check of his breath.

            “What’s wrong?” Harry asked, lifting a hand to smooth it along his cheek. He found that appropriate. Lucius was long and smooth inside him, and Harry’s fingers looked the same way on his face.

            Lucius ducked his head and kissed Harry with the same kind of soft viciousness. Harry lifted his head higher, even though Lucius pulled back and almost frowned at him.

            “You truly feel no pain?” Lucius gave another thrust, and Harry gasped in delight. “This is not the act of a Gryffindor martyr?”

            Harry had to laugh outright. “Do you go around bedding a lot of Gryffindor martyrs?”

            “Never again.”

            Harry swallowed. He liked the passion in Lucius’s voice, but it was hard to respond to. He said only, “No, I’m not a martyr. I gave that up after the war. Along with lying and sitting back and waiting for someone else to do something about the causes I care about.” He spread his legs encouragingly and lifted his arse as high as he could. “Do something, Lucius. Or I will.” He slid his hand downwards.

            “I think,” Lucius said, and gently put off his hand, “that I want that to be mine for the foreseeable future.”

            “I don’t know how to tell you this,” said Harry gravely, and Lucius paused and eyed him. “But yours is the one inside me. The one I’m touching is mine.”

            Lucius laughed, thankfully, just after Harry had begun to wonder whether his joke was tasteless. He kissed Harry on the hand and began to move again inside him. Harry closed his eyes and murmured happily, snuggling a little closer to Lucius’s chest.

            For a while, it was nice. Lucius moved slowly, his head bowed, hair swinging through Harry’s sometimes, and then brushing along his chest or shoulders when Lucius moved back. And Lucius’s hands were smooth and cool on his forehead and cheeks, gradually heating up.

            Then Lucius caught his breath, and jabbed a few times, harder than Harry thought he meant to. Harry grunted once. Lucius’s eyes flew open and he gave him a steady look.

            “It’s all right,” Harry murmured, moving his head a little. “What you need to do is thrust harder.”

            Lucius raised his eyebrows as if giving himself permission to doubt that, but he did thrust harder, and then it became, all at once, pure pleasure. Harry reached out and managed to capture the back of Lucius’s legs, tugging him forwards until Lucius almost tumbled onto him. He grunted explosively, and Harry nodded and pulled him still further and further in.

            They ended up with Lucius almost doubled up between Harry’s legs, crouching over him, and now both their skin and their eyes burned.

            “Come on,” Harry whispered.

            Lucius let go of whatever reservations he’d still had—maybe because Harry was a virgin—and fucked harder.

            Had been, Harry thought then, with enormous smugness, as he spread his legs to let them dangle over the sides of the bed. Had been a virgin.

            And I’m glad it was him. He did it without making me feel strange about it.

            And now he was doing something more than that. Harry found himself reaching up with fingers like claws, hooking them around Lucius’s nipples. Lucius hissed, but his pace didn’t falter.

            It was delightful, toying with him like this. Harry’s fingers flickered back and forth. Lucius closed his eyes, and still didn’t slow down.

            What can I do that will make him open them again?

            Harry thought of something, something simple and yet which would never have occurred to him before he had that first experience of having someone inside him. He smiled and squeezed down on Lucius’s cock.

            Lucius wheezed. It was the best sound Harry had ever heard. His eyes flew open again and he stared with his mouth slightly open.

            Harry gave him his best innocent grin and pout. “What?” he added, and squeezed again.

            There was a perfect moment when Lucius just gaped. And then he let loose all the pounding force that he’d had penned up inside him. Maybe he hadn’t thought Harry could take it before now.

            I can, Harry thought, soaring higher as he was literally pounded. He drew his fingers down Lucius’s chest again, and realized Lucius had nothing left to give. This was it. This was the flat-out, full-out ride.

            It was wonderful. Tension was already spiraling around Harry, even though it usually took him some time to get going when he wanked.

            But I won’t have to do that again, now that I have Lucius. If he’s serious.

            Unless he might like to watch…

            This time, Harry’s squeeze down was entirely involuntary, since he’d started to come.

            Lucius stilled above him, and watched every movement as though he was saving it in his memories to devour later. Harry let his breath stutter and his eyes remain wide open, because he thought Lucius would like to see that.

            Lucius watched him all the way through. And only began thrusting again when Harry once more lay still, panting a little. It was as if he thought that Harry would like to focus on his own pleasure first, and only have Lucius’s pleasure later, when he could enjoy it undistracted.

            Harry did like that, although he hadn’t known he would. He liked watching the delicate flush make its way over Lucius’s throat, and down his neck. He liked seeing the way his fingers closed hard on Harry’s hips and his head tilted back and his hair wavered. And he liked the soft noises Lucius made when he finally conceded to his orgasm and let a little air escape.

            Lucius rested at last beside Harry, much the way he had the first night they spent together, his eyes closed and his flanks trembling. Harry ran a hand down them. Lucius let him until he got close to his arse, and then shook his head and opened his eyes.

            “That—is sensitive, yet.”

            Harry grinned. He liked knowing Lucius’s arse was sensitive after sex, too.

            And Lucius willing to show that was something he had never imagined. So Harry didn’t tease him, but simply rolled close and gathered him even closer.

            And was asleep in seconds after he did that. It seemed becoming a not-virgin was more tiring than he’d anticipated.

*



            Lucius ran a hand slowly over Harry’s body.

He traced a slow line—down Harry’s arm to his hip, from his shoulder to his foot, and back up again. Harry never stirred. In fact, his chest moved with such slow breaths that Lucius might have been anxious, had he not left behind all such anxiety long ago.

Then again, until tonight, he had thought he had left behind such pleasure, too.

            Lucius lay down slowly, wondering. He knew the pleasure would cool a little in time, become familiar. The day was never the same as the dawn.

            But he had the impression that Harry would press on to show him other wonders, other new things, with no end to them.

            Lucius looked forward to it.

*

            “Ready?”

            Lucius’s voice was a faint murmur beside him. Harry smiled at him and walked into the ballroom ahead of them for answer.

            The Wizengamot held a number of galas each year—for charity, to welcome important or famous foreign wizards, to celebrate particular legal victories. It hadn’t taken that much interest in Harry and Lucius’s cause to persuade them to hold another one, in the ballroom at the Ministry reserved for them. The sparkling gold decorations on the walls made Harry have to pause and blink, though. He’d never been here when it was decorated like this. The Ministry usually went for a bit more subdued or subtle.

            Then again, the Wizengamot might not want subtle.

            Probably not, if they’re going to tell people that the cause Lucius and I have is reasonable, Harry thought, and leaned back a little. Lucius was already standing at his shoulder, head bowed as he murmured into Harry’s ear.

            “Draco is here. Near the back. And so is Zabini. No—wait, Zabini is moving towards the front. I think he wants to be in position to see perfectly well.” Lucius chuckled, and the sound slid down Harry’s spine with a deliciousness he could never have imagined before. “And your friends?”

            “Here,” Harry answered, with a tilt of his head towards the food table.

            “Good,” said Lucius. “Then we’ll begin as soon as you’ve finished your speech.”

            Harry thought he was probably grinning widely enough to look stupid, but he didn’t much care. He walked towards the front of the room, where a small podium was set up. Wizengamot members were standing around it chattering, but they fell silent, and so did most of the guests, when Harry walked up the steps.

            “Thank you for coming,” Harry said. His magic had snapped into place around his mouth the instant he willed it to, and the words echoed around the ballroom as easily as they would with a Sonorus Charm. “I think you should know that the Wizengamot has formed an official committee and already identified sixteen Muggleborn children at Hogwarts who have agreed to a home investigation. It’s identified a few others in precarious situations—orphanages, for example—who will be seen before the end of the month.”

            Applause followed, and Harry narrowed his eyes a little so that the wink of light off the huge illusory Galleons on the walls wouldn’t blind him. He held out his hand, and Lucius slipped up to him and put his own in it.

            There was a sharp splutter from near the wall. Harry grinned. That had to be Malfoy—Draco, he supposed. And Zabini was right in the first rank of Wizengamot onlookers, his smirk enormous.

            “This cause,” Harry said, and he didn’t need to change his voice much to make it deeper and more sentimental, “has the ability to bring people together. Just look at the way it’s united Lucius and me.” There was a lot of murmuring at the way he had used Lucius’s first name, but Harry ignored that. He had known there would be, and even invited it, sort of. “And we wanted you to be the first ones to know.”

            He beamed at everybody, and then moved as if he would step down from the podium. But it was actually Kait Melganthe who asked, “What did you want us to know?”

            “Why,” Harry said, after he turned around and checked quickly that both she and Zabini were in the right place to see Draco’s face, “that we’re so close and united we’ve become lovers.”

            Draco danced into view. He was making grabs at the air with hooked fingernails, as if he was trying to catch fish. He spluttered and choked and said nothing because too many words were fighting in his throat to emerge at once, if Harry was any judge. He waved a wordless hand and jumped up and down.

            Zabini started applauding. Melganthe followed quickly. Harry grinned. He knew what they would pretend the applause was for, but anyone who had been watching would know what the real target was.

            “And now that that’s done with,” Harry said, “my partner and I will dance to celebrate our success.”

            He took Lucius’s hand and led him towards the dance floor. Behind him, Draco’s further spluttering competed with Ron’s deep-throated sigh.

            But nobody is going to interfere. Because we won’t let them.

*

            Lucius, in the middle of a turn around the floor with Harry, saw his son.

            Draco was standing almost alone, with the crowd around him pulling back as if he had repelled them. Perhaps his despair had, Lucius thought; desperation of that kind was rarely attractive to the kind of political sharks that swam the waters of the Ministry.

            He stared at Lucius, and said and did nothing from the time that Lucius turned around to the time he turned around again, due to the demands of the dance, and could see Draco once more. Then he mouthed a single word. Why?

            Lucius tightened his hold on Harry in silent answer.

            Amazingly, it was Harry who caught Draco’s eye and smiled, and then mouthed, It’ll be all right.

            Draco stared at them both in complete incomprehension. But then he shook his head, gave one of those gusty sighs Harry’s Weasley friend was always uttering, and went off, probably to soothe his sorrows with one of the few superior brandies the Ministry had.

            “That was kindly done of you,” Lucius murmured.

            “Your connections are going to be mine,” Harry said. He hesitated, one flicker, as he lifted his hand and placed it on Lucius’s hair. “At least, if you meant your promise about staying with me.”

            “Are you that insecure?” Lucius asked curiously. He truly wanted to know. He supposed it was possible that Harry’s bravery and power masked a trembling fragility, but he hadn’t sensed it so far, and that was surprising.

            Then Harry smiled, and the light it cast was much more to Lucius’s taste than the ostentatious decorations of the Galleons on the walls.

            “No,” Harry said. “I only wanted to know if you did. I’m used to people moving on. Or not keeping promises. Or not being able to spend time with me, through no fault of their own.”

            No. It was strength he was hiding, Lucius thought—a strength that humbled him. Harry was offering him the chance to walk away if his own politics meant more to him than the quest they shared. Or because he didn’t want to torment Draco. Or for a hundred other reasons.

            His kindness is for me, too.

            Lucius took Harry’s hand and kissed the back of it, his eyes locked firmly on Harry’s face. “No. I will to stay.”

            Harry grinned then, and even better, the magic he had lent Lucius flared around his shoulders, into the visible semblance of a glittering green-and-gold cloak. Lucius had never felt anything like its folds around him, except Harry’s arms.

            “Good,” Harry said. “Because I want you to. And I want to be here.”

            It wasn’t often that Lucius was content, or even happy. Many of his joys were partial, the way that his family had become. Draco survived, he would have children, he would be happy, but he was not exactly what Lucius had wanted in a son. And his marriage had not worked out, and politics was ever about the art of compromise.

            But this—this was exactly what he wanted, and how could that but make him joyful?

            The End.

*

            autumngold: Glad you enjoyed it! And as you saw, the answer is yes. ;)

            Jan: Thank you!
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The Night With Stars