A New Family For Harry

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Lucius visited the pretty boy whore he had found in Knockturn Alley twice more before Harry's ninth birthday.



Neither time left him as satisfied as that first visit had. In point of fact, he hadn't intended to return at all. Though the child who gasped and bucked beneath him had, if he squinted, a pleasing resemblance to his ward -- that dark hair, which Lucius took pleasure in mussing, that slim body, those red lips -- more familiarity with him only reminded Lucius that this was not Harry, and would never approach the sweetness, the appeal, the...innocence of Harry.



No, the first time had been special because he had been able to convince himself, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this deliciously sordid encounter would...what? Exorcise Harry's place from his fantasies? Tide him over for some time until Harry was...



But that thought was not worth pursuing.



No, he only returned to the pretty childish whore because, well. It became necessary.



* * *



The first time, Lucius had allowed the Weasley boy to visit yet again for a sleepover of sorts. Harry's friendship with the gangly lad had continued unabated as the months had gone by. Lucius had found it both amusing and somewhat useful that, as a result of Harry's enthusiastic alliance, Lucius had gained a kind of grudging truce with Arthur Weasley. The wary détente was in evidence both whenever Lucius happened by Arthur whilst at the Ministry of Magic, as well as in the fact that Weasley had not ordered a raid on Malfoy Manor in the entire time that Ron had been paying visits there.



Draco seemed to continue antagonistic to the red-haired child, but he was rather more keen to join Harry and Ron these days, having insinuated himself into their once-a-fortnight visits some time back. Lucius was curious if it was because he had struck similar...deals with Harry as he had that first time that Ron had come to the Manor. But as near as he could tell, there hadn't been an obvious repeat of Harry and Draco's barely-innocent embraces that initial time.



So it would seem that Draco had given in so that he would not feel left out from Ron and Harry's play.



Or perhaps he was biding his time for something more...interesting. The boy was, after all, past his nine years (the celebration that Narcissa had insisted upon had been a thing of ridiculous excess, but as it had clearly struck envy and jealousy among their peers, Lucius had counted it as a success). So seeing as his son was approaching a decade in age, perhaps his Draco had gained some self-control, to hold out for some prize that was not merely a series of stolen kisses, but something rather more substantial.



In case Draco should be planning something in that small head of his, Lucius set up a few key wards around the house to alert him to any future assignations. He wanted to make certain the boys behaved, he told himself some times. Other times, he felt the need to witness the two children in a fumbling erotic scene so sharply that he had to excuse himself from business to envision it and take care of himself.



* * *



That weekend, Ron arrived after breakfast, a patched suitcase in his hand and a small worn teddy bear hidden behind his back.



Lucius left them to their play time as Harry and Draco dragged Ron off to the tree house. Later, Narcissa mentioned that she'd found the house elves had visited them there, plying the boys with a ridiculous variety of sweets before dinner. Lucius had merely laughed and told her that the children should be spoiled every so often, particularly as they had a guest. Narcissa pursed her lips at that -- she had never liked the idea that a Weasley was now welcome in their home -- but she deferred to Lucius's judgment, as well she should.



The day passed quickly, with barely a thought for the children playing nearby. But later, while Lucius took a Floo call from one of Fudge's ministry flunkies, he heard the boys stampeding up and down the back staircase that spiraled up not far from his study. Before he could tell them to move their games elsewhere, however, they streaked out into the gardens, and began to play in his sight.



He could watch them from his window as they hollered and ran, and for that moment, he breathed in relief at the emotions he experienced in response, because he felt only fatherly affection thrumming.



At dinner, he asked after the little ones, only to learn from Narcissa that they had been hungry earlier, had eaten downstairs in the kitchens, and were now upstairs in Harry's rooms, playing Gobstones.



"Perhaps I ought to check on them," Lucius murmured as he rose.



"Would you? There's a gathering..." Narcissa paused significantly.



Lucius bowed. "By all means, do go. Tell me in the morning who attended, and all the gossip that you learn."



Her smile was bright as she left the dining room to array herself in her finery.



* * *



Lucius moved silently along the back passageways.



Malfoy Manor had various hidden doors, rooms, and corridors, some tunnels running under the property, and a few wings that could not be detected at all except by him (or by Draco, though the wards were set to allow him to view and access those wings only when he came of age). Lucius could extend the passageways if he chose -- it was very nearly an organic thing, the occluded parts of his ancestral home shaping themselves to his needs and silent bidding.



Now, he pressed on until he was obscured behind the wall of Harry's bedroom, and moved back a panel so that, once again, he might observe undetected.



Draco had sprawled inelegantly on Harry's bed, and snored as though nothing would wake him. Clearly, not much would, because Ron and Harry were talking at full volume, and the Malfoy heir slept on. All those sweets, Lucius thought with some affection as Draco snorted and turned over to snore some more.



Ron and Harry sat upon a lounge large enough for three or four adults, a deck of cards scattered on the floor between them. They appeared to be having a debate.



"You must have, if you have brothers," Harry said reasonably.



"No, never," Ron answered. His ears had gone red, and now his cheeks burned as well. Strange, but though Draco had called Ronald Weasley ugly, and Lucius himself had thought the child homely, there was something about him... He would no doubt be handsome when he was older. And as for now, there was a certain masculine appeal about him, a boyishness different from Draco's sharp features and delicate ways, or Harry's pretty visage and charming puppy-like affections.



He wondered at the subject of their discussion -- were they speaking, as they often seemed to, about sport or Quidditch?



"But I have with Draco, sometimes anyway, and we're practically brothers," Harry argued.



Lucius stood straighter. Harry had with Draco, he was telling his friend. Could that mean...?



"You're not, though," Ron said. "He's a Malfoy, and you're a Potter, and you're not related. It's not something brothers do, and I should know, because I have enough of them."



"Hmmm." Harry tilted his head to the side and appeared to consider the logic of that statement. "So you never, not with one of your brothers..."



"No!" Ron exclaimed quickly.



Harry glanced down and played with the hem of his robe. "We're not brothers," he said brightly after a moment.



Lucius would not have thought it was possible for Ron Weasley to go any redder, but there it was.



"I dunno," Ron mumbled. He shot a glance over at Draco, still passed out on the bed.



"Oh, he'll sleep for ages," Harry said. "Come on. It's fun."



Lucius licked his lips as Ron took a breath, and then gave a jerky nod.



Harry was all smiles as he crawled along the lounge and then seated himself on Ronald Weasley's lap. "You can put your hands here," he advised, pulling Ron's hands to rest at his waist. "And I can...like this," he added, twining his wrists around Ronald's neck.



Now it was Ron's turn to lick his lips. He wrapped his arms around Harry's smaller frame with an embarrassed look, and leaned forward.



Draco and Harry must have found time to continue their games of kissing and embracing when Lucius was not around to find them, Lucius reflected. Because though Ron's first touch of his mouth to Harry's was awkward and inexperienced, Harry quickly turned the kiss into something smooth and sinuous.



They pulled back for a moment, and Lucius bit his lip to keep from groaning. Harry's hair was mussed from where Ron had clutched at his hair, and Ron's robes were undone, buttons and ties loosened by Harry's small clever hands.



"Nice, isn't it?" Harry said coyly.



"Yeah." Ron breathing had turned heavy, and he wasted no time in urging Harry closer.



There was some sighing and giggling as the two of them twisted and shifted to become more comfortable. Yes, Lucius mouthed as Ron pushed at Harry's robes to get them off, and Harry pulled off his jumper, panting as he straddled Ron's lap.



Lucius wished that he was situated more comfortably, perhaps in his bed, naked and able to make all the noise he liked as he fisted himself to the lovely vision in front of him. But standing and hidden would have to make do. He pushed away the thought that this time, surely, he should either interrupt this display of overly precocious affection or remove himself from the intimate scene.



No, this time he would relax and enjoy his evening's entertainment. He dropped his robes and long suit jacket behind him silently, and went about the business of opening his shirt with practiced ease.



Meanwhile, the two boys had continued kissing. Ron was a quick learner, Lucius noted, as the boy reached to slide his hands down and cup Harry's buttocks through his trousers, and use the pressure to move Harry's body closer to his. Lucius followed the rhythm to stroke his own chest, thumbing at his nipples, and working his hands downward with deliberation, never taking his eyes away from the boys before him.



"Oh," Ron said in a surprised voice, and Lucius actually had to bite down on his arm to keep from making a sound at the rapturous expression on the boy's face. Nine years old, and the boy was obviously hard, hard from holding and kissing and caressing Lucius's young ward.



And no wonder. Harry had set his glasses aside, laughing prettily. He seemed to have taken a page from Draco's book in the last tryst Lucius had witnessed, for he was moving his slim hips in a slow circle whilst still seated fully on Ron's lap. Oh, Lucius thought with pleasure as he banished all thoughts of propriety and worked his hands down further still, the little tempter, this innocent corrupter, Lucius's own luscious child...



"Harry," Ron said in a quavering voice.



"It's so nice," Harry said, his voice scratchy. "I don't let Draco -- oh -- much at all, because he likes to make deals -- mmmm -- and so we wait for that, when he would have me do him a favor...then, sometimes I let him..."



Lucius smiled as he moved the heel of his palm to massage where his hard cock pulled at his trousers, and then undid the flies to pull out his hard length. So Harry was just as much of a strategist as his son, was he? From the few words Harry had managed, Lucius rather thought Harry a better strategist than Draco, if he anticipated Draco's maneuvers and planned accordingly to give himself more control over their deals and favors.



"But I like it with you," Harry confessed with a small sigh as he pushed Ron's robes off the bigger boy's shoulders. "I like having you to kiss, Ron."



If Harry were female, Lucius thought he should be calling him a wide-eyed vixen right now. As it was, Harry blinked hazy green eyes at the enraptured boy who held him, and Lucius realized Harry was more delicious than any girl or woman he had ever beheld. The thought of that bade him roll and massage his bollocks, stroking the sac, while he began a slow and sure movement of pulling on his cock.



In the back of his mind, Lucius wondered why he did not want to call a stop to the proceedings. Oh, propriety was no more in his mind now than the number of Galleons needed to purchase a quill. But Harry was his boy, and should not Lucius have the privilege of touching him first? Should not Lucius take from those red plush lips the kisses that Harry was giving to boys, Lucius's own son Draco and Harry's playmate Ron?



But Harry was so young still, as adult as his movements in the current moment seemed. And Lucius found this child's play, this awakening of desire, itself so delectable. He felt a small burst of precome, and used it to ease his fist's pressure on his erection with a swallowed sigh. The addition of other boys, too, made it all so innocent, so unlike the adult calculations Lucius would have to employ, the plans and the lies he would have to put into place in order to get Harry into his bed at this stage.



More, Lucius wanted to whisper to the boys as he twisted his right nipple and drove his prick into his own hand. And that too, made him hard, the thought that he might direct the two of them, players on a stage acting only for his pleasure, his boy Harry, and the handsome little boy Harry had cajoled into this not so childish game.



As if somehow hearing his silent thoughts, Ron moved Harry forward and then back, so Harry's back was against the lounge, Ron looming over him. It was a mirror image of Draco's positioning over Harry the last time Lucius had seen that similar scene, and yet how different! Whereas before Harry had seemed more amused and accommodating to Draco's planned demands, and ran off easily as though he was not at all troubled by any interruption, now he joined Ron in breathing more heavily, and seemed for all the world desperate to have Ron continue, just as Ron had found this position by hunger and need rather than forethought.



For now Ron was thrusting up against Harry, unconsciously moving into the familiar pace known the world over, rubbing and bucking and crying out, "Harry, oh, Harry!" to the rhythm of their bodies. Lucius kept pace, images flashing through his mind of himself lying atop Harry, himself being the one to press Harry back and lay him out flat...



Beneath him, Harry thrust up, lovely wordless sounds falling from his lips as he kept rutting against the bigger boy who bore down above him.



Then Ron was stiffening, jerking with surprise through the motions so obviously new to him, and Harry was arching against him until he made a small cry and then went loose-limbed, as though someone had let go of a taut string and left him boneless.



Lucius finished with a muffled cry, biting his lip and drawing blood to keep as quiet as possible.



The two boys, the dark-haired and the ginger, settled and shifted around, nuzzling one another with kisses more chaste than before, giggling and whispering until Ron slept, his noises joining the clatter of snoring Draco was making on the bed only steps away.



But Harry laid awake, smiling to himself.



Just before Lucius stole away, he saw Harry run his small soft hands down his body and wriggle in the after-pleasure.



"Lucius," Harry whispered as he closed his eyes.