Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/15572.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_Rowling
  Relationship:
      Lucius_Malfoy/Severus_Snape
  Character:
      Severus_Snape, Lucius_Malfoy
  Additional Tags:
      Magic, Drama, Marauders'_Era, Dark_Magic, England_(Country), Slytherin
      England, First_Kiss, First_Time, Kissing_Lessons, Bathroom_Sex,
      Underwater_Sex, Resurrection, Slytherins_Being_Slytherins, Voyeurism,
      Masturbation, Crushes, First_Love, Hogwarts, Fucking, Making_Love,
      Teaching, Consensual_Kink, Detention, Rimming, Sex_Magic, Sensual_Play,
      Sensuality, Light_Bondage, Christmas_Presents, Holidays, Absent_Parents,
      Books, Alternate_Canon, Felix_Felicis, Malfoy_Manor, Chess, 69_(Sex
      Position), Sharing_a_Bed, Muggles, Book_6:_Harry_Potter_and_the_Half-
      Blood_Prince, mummers, Theatre, Christmas, Blood, Rituals, Sacrifice,
      Thestrals, House_Elves, Legilimency, Love, Ancient_History, Magical
      Artifacts, Bonfires, Potions, Lust_Potion/Spell, Blindfolds, Manipulative
      Dumbledore, Occlumency, Strength, Secrets, Intimacy, Historical
      References
  Collections:
      Your_Cruise_Director's_Love_Boat
  Stats:
      Published: 2005-09-16 Completed: 2009-11-18 Chapters: 9/9 Words: 38787
****** Tutelage ******
by cruisedirector
Summary
     Lucius Malfoy gives Severus Snape an education in what it means to be
     a Slytherin.
Notes
     When I first wrote this pairing, I assumed that the characters were
     several years closer in age than they are. If you read it assuming
     the canonical ages of the characters, one of them is much too young,
     so please assume instead that there was a Time-Turner involved. J.K.
     Rowling owns all things Harry Potter, though this version of magical
     Wiltshire is my responsibility. For ldybastet, greatly influenced by
     her and entirely her fault; also betaed by her, though any remaining
     grammatical or canonical errors are my fault. Thanks to istalksnape
     for additional beta work.
***** Transgression *****
He shouldn't be seeing this, Severus knows at once. He shouldn't be in here.
The man in the bath is not only a Prefect but Head Boy, a Pureblood, one of the
most popular Slytherin students. And what he is doing is something no one else
should witness...it is wrong, very wrong, that Severus should be here, yet he
cannot tear his eyes away.
Lucius Malfoy has one leg thrown over the side of the vast tub. His long blond
hair is draped outside the tub as well, still dry, falling in sleek waves that
bob up and down as he moves. His back is arched, lifting him above the water,
with one hand holding the side of the tub to keep himself afloat.
His other hand is on his prick. Moving. Stroking. His prick is enormous,
swollen and shockingly purple against his pale skin. His head is tilted back,
lips parted, eyes closed. Severus has never thought before about whether or not
a man could be beautiful -- "beautiful" is a word applied to girls like
Narcissa Black, who shares Lucius' pale hair, though Snape has never really
understood what makes one girl considered prettier or more popular than
another. But Lucius, he has no doubt, is beautiful. The firm rippling muscles
in his arms and chest as his hand moves, the sharpness of his jawbone, the fine
curling hairs in a patch between rosy nipples that look as though they've been
pinched...
Lucius lets out a soft groan, flexing the toes of the foot dangling free from
the tub, and Severus must bite his lip to keep from whimpering as well. His own
prick is stiffening, and though it is smaller than Lucius' he tugs at his robes
to better cover himself. He is sweating in the warm bathroom, feeling his hair
cling damply to his face and forehead. He knows he must look like the greasy
git those Gryffindor boys tell him that he is -- boys like Sirius Black who is
Narcissa's cousin and also, perhaps, beautiful, though not like the man in the
bathtub.
For Lucius is unquestionably a man, not a boy. There is nothing uncertain in
the way he touches himself, none of the curiosity or shame that accompanies
Severus when he furtively slides a hand inside his waistband in the solitude of
his bed with the curtains shut. Lucius seems to be enjoying not only the rhythm
of his fingers but the fact that he can do this for himself, give himself this
satisfaction. For a moment Severus tries to imagine it, being so pleased with
his body that he could expose it in this way, before he remembers that the
bathroom was supposed to be locked and he opened the door with a spell he'd
made up himself, just to see if it would work. The man in the tub believes
himself to be alone, without possibility of interruption.
He should go, but the magnitude of the transgression only makes him want to
stay even more. This is not Lucius showing off his body for some imagined
admirer; this is how Lucius pleasures himself in complete privacy, when he can
dare to rub a finger in a place Severus has never had the courage to touch,
thinking surely people will know if he does so because it's so dirty, surely
they will sense it...
Lucius mutters something and then he is floating without needing his hands to
support him. Now he can use both of them on himself, and Severus is even more
shocked when he withdraws the finger and licks it, sucks it into his mouth,
then puts it right back where it had been dirtying itself before. Lucius'
breathing has grown louder, ragged, with more frequent moans. Severus knows
what is supposed to happen soon though he has never seen it: there were
descriptions, in the horrid book they all had to read about how babies are
made, and he has heard whispers from the older boys about things they had
convinced the girls to do, with their hands or if they were very lucky with
their mouths. Severus has always thought it sounded filthy and repulsive, but
this...
With another groan Lucius arches nearly out of the tub, face contorting and
going rigid, but Severus can scarcely spare it a glance. His eyes roam hungrily
to Lucius' prick, which is even more swollen, looking as if it might burst. And
then it does: white streaks spurt through the air and onto Lucius' belly as he
cries out hoarsely. Severus feels as though his own groin may explode but he
does not dare touch it, for if he does he is certain that he will scream.
With a loud sigh Lucius settles back into the water, sliding his hands up the
mess on his belly and washing it away. For a moment Severus thinks that he
might escape unscathed and he begins to withdraw, but just then Lucius' eyes
open lazily and widen in astonishment to see him standing there. Severus knows
how he must look, with his shoulders hunched to keep his robes covering him
completely and his hair stuck to his face; he freezes in terror, unable even to
begin to formulate an apology, let alone an explanation.
"Were you watching me?" asks Lucius in a low, accusing voice.
There is no hope that Severus can lie. Blushing scarlet, he nods, waiting for
Lucius to fly into a temper or, worse, to inform him coldly that his intrusive
behavior will be reported to the Headmaster. He believes nothing could be worse
than that, to have to stand before Dumbledore while Lucius explains that he is
a filthy little spy, yet when Lucius gives him a small, secretive smile, it is
even more terrifying.
What will Lucius ask him to do? Will he promise not to tell if Severus...? His
hands begin to shake as he tries to guess at the possibilities -- Lucius asking
him to touch him, or to get in the tub and do the same, things he is not ready
for, things his mind can scarcely imagine before being overwhelmed by the urge
to beg for mercy. "Please," he whispers.
Shaking out his hair, Lucius sits upright in the tub, cocking an elegant
eyebrow. "Please what?" And in the silence, "Why are you trembling? Didn't you
like watching me?"
"I did," admits Severus, almost a sob. He glances at Lucius, expecting to see
fury on his face, and cannot understand why the man instead continues to give
him that mysterious little grin. Perhaps all he wants is a full confession. "I
-- I was testing out a spell, I didn't know anyone was here, and I came in, and
I...saw you."
"And you watched." Lucius' eyes narrow, appraising him. "What's your name?"
"S-Severus-s-s-Snape."
"Oh, that's right. You're a Slytherin." The words are spoken with something
very like approval. "Well, now we have a secret, Severus, don't we." This
sounds like a threat, and Severus holds his breath, but Lucius only smiles
again. "Now dry yourself off, and go back to your dormitory, and do whatever is
necessary to calm yourself. Remember: our secret."
Settling back, Lucius makes the soap fly into his hand without even speaking a
charm, and Severus understands that he has been dismissed...he has been
reprieved. With a stuttered "yes, sir," he turns and flees, not stopping to
breathe properly until he has reached the safety of his bed with the curtains
shut tight.
He knows he should try to forget that it ever happened, but instead he buries
his face in his pillow and shoves his hand into his pants, beyond shame now,
seeking only relief from an urge he never knew existed. He knows, too, that
Lucius Malfoy's face will haunt his dreams, perhaps forever -- and he thinks
Lucius knows it, too.
That, then, is his punishment...and perhaps, in some way he is not ready to
explain, his reward.
***** Bravado *****
He watches Lucius Malfoy helplessly, unable to tear his eyes away, no more than
he could in the prefect's bathroom. At the other end of the table in the Great
Hall, from a distant corner of the Slytherin common room, going in and out of
the Quidditch changing rooms and he would work up the courage to walk in
himself under the pretext of having a message for one of the other players if
he weren't afraid of finding Lucius alone.
For Lucius knows that he is watching. At least once a day, Lucius will catch
his eye and smirk, or nod, and once -- when nobody else was near the corridor
to Lucius' dormitory -- he even winked, his open eye seeming to repeat: Our
secret.
And still, despite his terror, Severus finds excuses to pass the
Transfiguration classroom when the seventh-year students will be shuffling out
of class; he wanders through the Dark Arts section of the library, knowing that
Defense is reportedly Lucius' favorite subject; and he finds reasons to take
detours past the bathroom he should never have entered, drawn to the place as
if some enchantment binds him to it.
"Where are you sneaking off to this time, Snivellus?" Potter calls to him after
a joint Gryffindor and Slytherin Potions class. "Got a boyfriend down in the
dungeon?" Black glances over at his friend, then laughs uproariously, as does
Pettigrew, though Lupin busies himself with gathering up his books.
Although Lupin is the only one of the four who is ever nice to him, Severus
snarls, "Why don't you ask your boyfriend where he's always disappearing?" and
nods at the pale boy with the strange scars while Lupin practically hides his
face in his book bag. It gives him no pleasure to taunt Remus Lupin, but Black
and Potter are invulnerable -- purebloods both, top students, and the latter
certain to make his House Quidditch team the next year.
Fleeing, for there is no Slytherin student who will stand by Severus the way
Potter and Black will defend even that worthless idiot Pettigrew, he takes a
circuitous journey around Hogwarts and finds himself as if by luck instead of
design once more in front of the prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor. It is
safe now, he thinks, for it is nearly dinnertime and prefects are expected to
arrive punctually to set a good example. To his surprise, Lucius comes around a
corner holding a silver hairbrush in one hand and already unfastening the
collar of his robes with the other.
"Severus Snape," says Lucius in a voice bright with mirth. "Trying to steal in
here again? Didn't you see enough of the place last time? Or you wanted another
look at the mermaid?"
"I..." stammers Severus. The truth is that he remembers very little of the
bathroom from the last time, although he vaguely recalls that there was a
painting of a mermaid. His senses had been entirely occupied by the man in the
tub.
While he casts around for some excuse for having been in the corridor -- he
cannot explain to Lucius Malfoy that he was escaping from a group of Gryffindor
bullies -- Lucius steps up to the door and enunciates clearly, "Foaming
bubbles." Immediately the door creaks open, letting the soft light of the
candle-filled chandelier spill out into the hallway.
Lucius begins to step inside, then glances back at Severus almost impatiently.
"Coming?"
"I -- can't -- "
"Of course you can, I've just invited you. Not that the lack of an invitation
stopped you the last time, anyway."
This is spoken with an appreciation that makes Severus' knees feel weak. He had
been afraid that Lucius considered him a coward for creeping about the school
trying to catch a glimpse of him. Yet the possibility that Lucius deems this to
be brazen behavior is worse. He may believe that Severus is brave, and expect
Severus to accept with enthusiasm any offer he makes...
"Well, come on," says Lucius with a trace of irritation. "I'm not planning to
drown you, just to give you a proper look at the place. Then you'll know what
may await you if you become a prefect, and you'll have a reason to work extra
hard at your studies, won't you?"
Gulping, Severus steps into the regal white marble bathroom. He has never seen
the tub empty, and is astonished at its size; it more closely resembles a
swimming pool with a diving board, and he has never imagined anything with the
number of taps that encircle this bathtub's edges, the handles studded with a
rainbow of colored gemstones. The stack of thick towels is so big that he
suspects he could dive onto it without injuring himself.
He is torn between wanting to explore, to get a closer look at the mermaid in
the painting whose eyes follow him curiously, her hair as long and yellow as
Lucius', and wanting to stand rooted to the spot in the hope that Lucius will
somehow forget his presence and go on with his ordinary routine. For so long,
it seems, Severus has imagined what Lucius must have done before he intruded
that day -- removing and folding his robes, setting a towel by the shallower
end and slipping into the water...
"Go ahead, try the taps," Lucius encourages him. "I generally begin with the
opal-colored handle; it produces foam that allows me to float on top of the
water nearly unassisted." He grins knowingly at Severus, who blushes scarlet
and kneels to turn the tap mostly to avoid Lucius' gaze. Gleaming white froth
sprays out, beginning to fill the tub more quickly than Severus would have
believed possible.
Then he turns the tap next to it, which releases a fragrant cloud of floral
mist, but shuts it almost immediately, wanting no distracting scents. The tap
next to that one produces silvery bubbles that rise and affix onto his hair
like self-activating shampoo; the one beside that spills colorful ribbons of
soap that slither over his hand when he lowers it into the rapidly filling tub.
"Isn't it delightful?" Heartened by the enthusiasm in Lucius' voice, Severus
glances up at him, only to blush again when he sees that Lucius has removed his
robes and is rapidly stripping off his underwear. Quickly Severus rises and
steps back, averting his eyes, though he is aware of Lucius' incredulous stare.
"What's the matter? Don't you want to get in?"
"I -- I shouldn't," Severus says.
At this, Lucius frowns. "You're a Slytherin," he says reprovingly. Afraid that
his blank expression will betray him, Severus nods in agreement, but he does
not understand why his being a Slytherin should make it permissible for him to
enter the prefects' bathtub, and Lucius can see his confusion. "You can't go
around hiding your ambitions, letting other people tell you what you should
do," he scolds Severus. "If you don't want to, then you should tell me so, and
if you do want to, then 'shouldn't' doesn't really matter, does it?"
Wavering in agony, Severus allows himself mere seconds to weigh his choices. If
he is to get into the tub he will have to undress in front of Lucius and let
the man see his scrawny, ugly body unprotected by robes; if he declines then
Lucius will think him weak anyway; if he is naked in Lucius' presence his
physical response will be impossible to hide and perhaps Lucius only wishes to
ridicule him; if he ever wants Lucius to offer him anything again he had better
graciously accept this invitation.
With shaking hands he begins to unfasten his robes, aware of clear blue eyes on
his fumbling fingers. For a moment he thinks Lucius will offer to help, which
only makes it harder to focus on his buttons, but then Lucius turns to remove
the last of his own clothing, sits on the side of the tub and slips into the
water, where the foam hides his form from view.
Turning his back on the tub, Severus drops his robes into a pile far less
elegant than the neat stack Lucius has made, shuffles to the water with his
hands over his groin and climbs in as quickly as possible. The water is much
deeper than he had anticipated, rising to his chin, and he splutters a bit as
it splashes into his nose and mouth. "Careful," says Lucius, reaching his side
in two powerful strokes through the foamy water. "You can swim, can't you?"
"Of course," replies Severus firmly, though it is already apparent to him that
Lucius has much greater skills in this regard than his own feeble ability to
keep himself afloat. The frothy bubbles are clinging all over his body, making
him feel more buoyant than usual and seemingly scrubbing at his skin; it feels
invigorating and a bit ticklish, and he has trouble holding still.
"Here." Lucius touches something on the side of the tub to make a marble shelf
jut out just beneath the surface of the water and foam. With muscular arms he
lifts himself up and twists around to sit on the ledge, patting the empty space
beside him. "Come sit, if you'd rather not swim." Reaching around, he turns
another tap and fountains of water begin to spray over his back.
Severus is far less graceful raising himself onto the ledge, for the bubbles
have made the surface slippery and his bottom glides as he sits, making him
crash into Lucius before he regains his balance. They sit in silence side by
side, with Severus waving his barely-visible legs in the foamy water beneath
them as Lucius strokes froth up his own arms and shoulders, letting the warm
jets wash it away. Seeing Lucius touching himself even in this thoughtless,
sanitary manner makes Severus hard almost immediately; he hunches over, trying
to hide his prick from view as it attempts to prod itself above the bubbles in
his lap.
"Why are you ashamed of your body?" asks Lucius, sounding puzzled, not as if he
might be taunting.
"I'm. You know. It's." If Lucius does not understand instinctively, then
Severus doubts that any explanation will satisfy him; Lucius, after all, had
evidently felt no shame not only at pleasuring himself but at having been
caught in the act, and he seemed singularly unconcerned that his admirer was
male rather than female. "I guess I'm not used to it," he mumbles.
"You are very young," grants Lucius, inclining his head as if conceding a point
to Severus. "But intelligent, they tell me. Slughorn said that you're an
excellent Potions student; he's been thinking of inviting you to join his
little circle of toadies." Severus feels his breath catch in his throat, and
his prick twitches in excitement: has Lucius been asking questions about him?
"Somehow, though, you don't strike me as that sort of follower, though I
couldn't help noticing that you've been following me."
Does Lucius want him to confess? Or to apologize? "I didn't mean to..." he
begins urgently, but is forestalled by a soapy hand held up to silence him.
"I know you're something of a loner. You don't grovel to the purebloods from
your year or try to curry favor with people who might have known your mother."
Severus blushes again, for surely this means that Lucius knows his origins, but
the man is studying him without contempt. "If you were looking for popularity,
or protection, you'd do better to try to befriend someone closer to your own
year; I'll be gone in the spring." The secret, dangerous smile has returned,
playing at the edges of Lucius' mouth. "Well, Severus? Why are you following
me?"
Hastily dropping his eyes in embarrassment, Severus catches a glimpse of
Lucius' prick poking up from the foam and shivers despite the warm enclosure of
the bubbles. Weeks of remembering that imposing entity has made it less a
source of intimidation for Severus than an object of reverence -- something he
has conjured again and again, with his excitement overwhelming his humiliation.
The sight of it now does not frighten him as it did, though it confirms the
terrifying suspicion that he has desired Lucius' body, not just Lucius' power
which might be more easily explained away. He is certain that Lucius knows the
answer to his question...and more, that the answer arouses him.
Yet Lucius has not touched him. Though he invited Severus into his bath, he has
in no way suggested that he craves the favors that Severus thinks he would dare
to offer, now, if Lucius would let him. Perhaps Lucius is merely provoked by
the understanding that he led Severus to this fall, and has no liking for
Severus himself with his gaunt frame and lanky hair. But he did ask the
question.
"You said...I can't go hiding my ambitions," Severus repeats as Lucius nods
with an amused lift of his eyebrow. "And, if -- if I really wanted something,
it doesn't really matter if I shouldn't?"
His voice quavers, betraying both his fear and his anticipation, making Lucius'
expression turn more somber. This has all been an entertaining diversion for
Lucius thus far, he supposes -- flattering and harmless. He could make a stupid
declaration, tell Lucius what he has been dreaming since he last saw him in
this room, which he suspects Lucius already knows. Or he can take a risk and do
what Lucius' words imply.
"I want... I was hoping... Would you let me touch you?" he asks in a rush.
There is a moment of quiet in which the only sound in the room is the fizzing
of the foam, its bubbles slowly dissolving into the water. Then Lucius shakes
his head slowly, sighing. "Severus, you're too young. If you're not comfortable
with your own body, you shouldn't entrust it to anyone else."
Severus had expected to be refused because he is of lesser blood and lesser
talent -- and male -- but this is not a response that he had anticipated, and
because it is not a rejection, he feels bold. "But you told me I shouldn't hide
what I wanted," he reminds Lucius, who eyes him warily. "You said it didn't
matter..."
"Maybe it matters to me," Lucius tells him. He's just as hard as he was before,
not trying to hide from Severus' gaze. "I said you shouldn't bury your
ambitions, but we can't have everything we want, you know. Not even when we
come of age."
"No, but we could have this," Severus insists quietly, heart pounding with
terror and excitement. Lucius says nothing. His hands rest on the edge of the
shelf in the water, unthreatened and unthreatening; he is watching to see what
Severus will do. Slowly, so that Lucius has time to twist away or push his hand
back or immobilize him, Severus reaches through the water, touching first
inside Lucius' thigh, and then, when there is no word of resistance or any
reaction whatsoever other than a soft twitch of the muscle under his fingers,
he moves them over and up along the shaft.
Lucius' prick seems to leap eagerly into his palm, lifting and pressing upward
like a warm alive being. Touching it is nothing at all like touching himself;
he cannot predict its reactions, the startled huff of breath that escapes
Lucius' nose when he closes his fingers, the pulse in the vein along the
underside as he moves his hand. This prick is thicker than his own and he has
never wanked in a bathtub, always terrified that someone would come in, his
mother or an elf or another student, but he does not think it is only the girth
and the slippery bubbles that make this feel like a brand new sensation.
Lucius is sitting utterly still, watching him, his hands beneath the water
holding the ledge, his legs spread. Severus thinks that perhaps Lucius does not
mean the denials but simply does not want to admit that, yes -- he wants. The
fear that had nearly paralyzed Severus is melting in the warm water into
elation: he dared to name his desire and now it is being granted to him for no
higher price than the confession.
"Should I do it faster?" he asks tremulously, trying to remember exactly how
Lucius touched himself when he thought he was unobserved. He does not dare
reach between his legs, to touch that place he had always considered dirty but
which now obsesses him, but he remembers how Lucius used his whole arm and
pressed his thumb just so. "Will -- will you turn?"
With his other hand he encourages Lucius to rotate his body until once again he
lifts a leg over the lip of the tub, letting the other dangle off the shelf,
hips changing their angle beneath the water. Severus speeds up his arm, trying
to rub his thumb back and forth at the same time. Lucius looks more surprised
than pleased as he moans, his fingers tightening on the side of the tub, "Is
that right?"
Lucius does not speak, but lets his head fall back and eyes drift shut, parting
his lips after a moment to moan again. It is more nearly the position he had
been in when Severus watched him pleasure himself; Severus guesses that he must
like the sensation, even if he will not say so. His prick has swelled so much
that Severus cannot hope to close his hand around it, with the head growing
dark and gleaming damply. It would fit perfectly between Severus' tongue and
the roof of his mouth but he does not wish to risk distracting Lucius by
leaning over to take it in. Perhaps, if he pleases Lucius enough, he can make
such a selfish request another time.
"Would you like me to show you, or do you want to do this yourself?" Lucius
asks softly, without opening his eyes.
"Oh. Show me. Please."
Lucius' hand detaches from the side of the tub and floats through the water to
find Severus' on his prick; he closes his fingers more tightly and begins to
move in shorter, rougher strokes. His eyes drift to Severus, watching his face
curiously, as if uncertain whether he will be offended or excited or
disappointed or grateful.
Severus meets his gaze but cannot spare the effort to smile, for touching
Lucius like this, with the man's hand moving his own, is making his own prick
throb and strain urgently. The foam in the water seems to respond to the heat
in his groin, condensing and compressing with the same invigorating pressure he
felt when he first entered the tub. When Lucius chokes on a cry and pulses in
his hand, Severus feels himself tense and release into the accommodating
bubbles, though his focus is still on the beautiful man who is letting him
share this.
Watery whitish streaks have spattered Lucius' belly. His fingers slide from his
prick into the water as if he will wash them away, but Severus stops him.
"Wait. Can I taste it?"
"Don't you want..." Lucius begins hoarsely. His eyes drift open to take in
Severus' flushed face and softening erection. "Or did you...just from making me
come?" Ducking his head to hide his belated embarrassment, Severus leans over
and, without permission, brushes his lips to the sticky stain on Lucius' belly
above the waterline. Lucius' damp skin is smooth and slippery beneath his
mouth; it is faintly salty beneath his tongue, and the white streaks are
bitter. Severus' arms slide around Lucius as he licks him, so that by the time
he raises his head, he realizes that he is embracing the man.
Lucius lifts a hand out of the water. His thumb strokes over Severus' cheekbone
and across his lips. "What you lack in experience you make up for in
impudence," he says without a trace of reproach and with a hint of regard.
Still blushing, Severus lowers his eyes, wondering whether he ought to tell
Lucius how much he has changed him simply by smiling when another might have
hexed and humiliated him.
Then Severus nearly stops breathing for a moment as Lucius announces, "Listen.
This can't continue..." He glances up in alarm while Lucius continues, "You
must stop following me. People will notice." At his nod, Lucius adds, "I broke
several rules for you today. I have to know that I can trust you."
"You can trust me," says Severus quickly.
"Then show me. Let me find you in my own time." The tiny, enigmatic smile has
returned to the fine features. "You do want to keep our secret, don't you,
Severus?"
"Of course!"
"Then get out of this tub, dry yourself off, get dressed and go have some
dinner before the food is entirely gone."
In a matter of minutes Lucius has made him feel like a child again, but Severus
is still too full of wonder to mind. Lucius invited him here. Lucius is
suggesting that he might do it again.
And Severus understands some things for certain now. He will never recover from
what he discovered spying on Lucius Malfoy. He will never recapture his
innocence. Nor will he ever want to, for it is better to know oneself than to
fear oneself...it is better to risk drowning than avoid the water.
***** Kissing Lessons *****
Of all the rigors of his Hogwarts education, the hardest thing Severus must
learn is not to stare at Lucius Malfoy. Not to watch the Head Boy's elegant
fingers as he pins notices to the message boards. Not to steal glances up the
Slytherin table to watch Lucius' mouth move as he bites into a piece of fruit.
Not to watch the luxurious robes billowing as he walks past, to imagine those
robes billowing right off his body into a pile at his feet...
Turning a teacup into a mouse is easy, compared to this. Defensive hexes sting
less. The only time Severus can quiet his mind is during Potions, when the
required precision and the rhythmic movement of stirring his cauldron calm his
thoughts. History of Magic is hopeless, for his mind wanders across the
centuries, imagining Lucius in different times, different places. Perhaps when
kings and queens kept magicians at their courts, Lucius would have been a
sorcerer, and Severus might have been his apprentice...
Lucius is here now, just on the other side of the bookcase, at the entrance to
the Restricted Section where Severus dares not venture, though the library is
nearly deserted. He spotted Severus when he came in, giving him a smirk as if
to say that he knew why the boy had chosen the table closest to this particular
collection of books, though he did not greet him by name. It has been nearly a
week since Lucius spoke to him and Severus is beginning to feel the absence as
a physical ache. If only he dared to approach him, now, when no one else could
see...
"Aren't you coming?" asks a low, amused voice from behind the bookcase, and
Severus makes a shockingly loud noise in the nearly silent library as he
crashes his chair into a table leg in his haste to get to his feet.
Lucius is waiting for him, leaning calmly against a shelf of books on dark
magic, arms and ankles crossed as if he hasn't another care in the world.
"You've been a good boy, Severus," he murmurs enticingly. "I haven't once seen
you on the fifth floor this week. You haven't been lurking outside the
Transfiguration classroom, and you were very discreet watching through the
window while the seventh-years were walking to the lake." Squirming, Severus
ducks his head, pretending to be examining a book on the bottom shelf which has
tentacles waving from its spine. "I thought that perhaps you'd lost interest."
"You said not to...!" cries Severus much too loudly, startling Lucius, who
promptly uncrosses his arms and legs and steps closer with a finger held to his
lips. "I thought you didn't want me to," he amends in a whisper, trembling when
Lucius takes the finger from his own lips and presses it to Severus'.
"I was only teasing. I said you'd been a good boy, didn't I?" Lucius is smiling
at him. "And I think you deserve a reward. What would you like for your reward,
Severus?" This is so startling that Severus' lips part, and the tip of Lucius'
finger slips between them, distracting him with the feel and taste that he can
think of nothing else. After a moment Lucius withdraws the finger, painting
Severus' lower lip with his own saliva. "Well? There must be something you'd
like."
After an entire week without speaking to Lucius, Severus is ready to offer
everything, to accept anything; he can think only that he must say something
that will make Lucius realize the intensity of his interest, and show him that
he can use Severus however he pleases. Steeling himself, he declares in a quiet
voice, "I want you to fuck me."
Lucius steps back, studying him. His face is unreadable. "You want me to fuck
you?" he repeats slowly. "Do you have any idea what you're asking?"
Turning scarlet, Severus drops his eyes. Is Lucius angry because he has asked
him to break so many rules? Or because he has requested something so personal?
Is this simply a step too far, something that Lucius would never do with
another boy -- does he feel unmanned by the suggestion? In a small voice,
Severus says, "You can do it any way you want..."
A hand tilts his chin so that he is forced to look into Lucius' face. "Has
anyone ever fucked you?"
"N-no."
"Has anyone ever touched you there?"
"No!" He blushes. "I want you to be first. I'm a vir..."
Lucius shakes his head slightly to cut him off, indicating with a twitch of his
cheek that Severus' wholesomeness isn't his concern at the moment. "Do you like
to be touched there? Do you like to touch yourself, or put things in yourself?"
"I've, no, I've never -- "
"Have you ever seen people fucking?"
"No."
Releasing his chin, Lucius tilts his head, looking at him somberly. "Why do you
want me to fuck you, Severus? Do you think either of us would enjoy doing
something about which you have so little knowledge? Did you think I needed some
display of complete submission?" And his lip curls.
"No!" Severus is nearly frantic; these are the cruelest words that Lucius has
ever said to him, and he knows it is his own fault. "I thought you'd want to, I
thought maybe you thought I owed you it after...if you thought I was being a
tease, maybe you thought I wanted it already..."
"But you don't yet," says Lucius, with a kind of satisfaction on his face. "Do
you? You aren't frightened or worried about what will happen?"
"I -- a bit." It is as if he is a child again and Lucius can see right through
him. Of course Lucius wouldn't want to fuck a child, thinks Severus with
disgust. He has ruined everything.
"What did I tell you about being honest about your desires?" asks Lucius,
shaking his head very slightly. "Ten points from Slytherin. Let's begin again.
What do you want?"
Severus rubs his cold, clammy palms on his robes and looks down again. "I want
to go somewhere with you. Not here."
"You want us to be alone together." There is the faintest hint of smugness in
Lucius' voice. "Have you heard of the Room of Requirement?" Severus has heard
of it, but he had thought it was a legend, like the Chamber of Secrets that
Salazar Slytherin had supposedly built within the walls of Hogwarts. As he
stares, Lucius continues, "Oh, it's quite real. Come with me, I'll show you."
In silence they leave the library, Lucius smiling and nodding at the few people
they pass in the corridors while Severus hunches his shoulders and shuffles his
feet. He supposes that anyone who sees them will assume that the Head Boy is
taking him to be disciplined for some transgression, and prays that his
Gryffindor classmates are nowhere near. When they reach the seventh floor,
Lucius halts before a tapestry of dancing trolls. The wall opposite appears to
be blank stone, so Severus assumes that whatever they have come to find must be
hidden behind the tapestry, but it is to the wall that Lucius walks.
"Wait," he instructs Severus and began to pace in front of the wall, eyes shut.
When he turns a final time and looks up, Severus is astonished to see a door
where there had been none before. "You see?" says Lucius with a smile, reaching
for the handle. "Come."
Severus cannot help gaping like a first-year witnessing his first
Transfiguration as they enter the room. There is nothing inside but a vast bed
with pillows piled against its high back. Lucius looks amused. "When you're a
bit older, there will be chests full of toys and treasures," he promises, and
Severus does not think he means spinning tops or enchanted playing cards. "The
Room gives you what you need -- I suppose it must believe that all we need is a
bed. Look, it's even provided my own pillows."
He smiles at Severus, who can feel himself smiling uncertainly back at him.
When he had asked Lucius to fuck him, he had had a vague notion of being taken
to Lucius' dormitory, to Lucius' own bed, where the pleasure of lying on
Lucius' pillows in the spot where Lucius slept would hopefully have diminished
whatever pain and shame he felt from the act itself. Bending, Lucius removes
his shoes, then goes to sit on the edge of this bed before Severus has finished
doing the same. "All right, Severus. What would you like to do, now that we're
here?"
This time Severus thinks hard before answering. He tries to remember what he
has fantasized the past few nights, touching himself with thoughts of Lucius
filling his mind. "Last time you let me touch..." he begins hesitantly. "And
after, you let me, with my tongue..."
"Yes, I remember." The voice is warm as Lucius pats the bed beside him,
inviting Severus to sit. "And now?"
"Now I want..." Severus clutches at his robes in his fists. "You in my mouth,"
he mutters quickly. "Come in my mouth."
Lucius continues to look at him as he begins to shed his robes, pink-faced and
uneasy but determined. "That's what you want? That's all you want?"
"Please," Severus says. "Let me."
With a slow nod, Lucius begins to remove his own clothing. A chair appears out
of nowhere for him to pile it upon, and he does so. "All right," he says in a
strangely dispassionate voice. "If you're sure."
It takes Severus more time to remove his clothing with his nervous fingers, so
that by the time he is finished, Lucius is already lying on the bed waiting for
him. His prick is thicker than it would be if it was flaccid, but it is not
fully erect. Severus kneels and leans over Lucius' groin, not daring to look at
his face; he has dreamed of having him in his mouth, but now that he has Lucius
spread out before him like a banquet, he is unsure how to begin.
Bending down, he draws the prick into his mouth, feeling it pulse faintly as he
does so. He sucks harder to try to get the same response again and wonders at
Lucius' silent stillness. Perhaps he is not sucking on enough of the shaft.
Opening his mouth wider, he slides down on the prick, gags slightly as the head
strikes the back of his throat, feels his teeth close automatically and hears
Lucius make a loud noise of protest.
"Stop," he says sharply, and Severus, already pale and tearing up from gagging,
pulls back and closes his eyes in shame. He feels Lucius lift his head to look
at him. "Have you ever done this before?"
Blushing as he did when Lucius asked him what he knew about fucking, Severus
squirms and shakes his head. He shifts back, preparing to apologize again,
while Lucius rises onto his elbows, but Lucius sits up before the words have
come and reaches out for his hands.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Severus shakes his head, still unable to meet his
eyes. Tugging on his fingers, Lucius pulls him closer. "I don't understand why
you're trying to rush things. Don't you want to learn to do this correctly, so
that both of us will enjoy it?"
"Yes..."
"Then will you trust me?"
Risking a quick glance up, Severus sees no anger or condescension in Lucius'
steely blue eyes, only a flash of calculation, as if he's measuring Severus'
courage against what he had believed it to be. Quickly he nods, afraid that his
voice will betray him.
Lucius squeezes his hands again. "Come sit back against the pillows." He shifts
away and lets Severus crawl up so that the two of them have very nearly
switched positions on the bed. Then he leans over Severus, pushing a stray lock
of hair from his face. This is nearly as intimidating as trying to suck Lucius'
prick, and Severus trembles. Seeing this, Lucius strokes his cheek.
"Let's start at the beginning. Do you know how to kiss?"
At least Lucius hadn't asked if he'd ever kissed anyone. The answer, of course,
is no, with the exception of relatives his mother had made him kiss, and that
is hardly an experience upon which he dwells. "Not really," he mutters.
The smile on Lucius' face tells him that this reply does not surprise him.
"Then that's a good place to begin," he whispers, and leans in, brushing his
lips very softly over Severus' mouth. It feels like feathers on his lips and a
tidal wave crashing through his body. To Severus' intense embarrassment, he
moans, but Lucius only smiles and does it again. "Now your turn."
Pushing up with his shoulders, Severus raises his face to Lucius, puckering his
lips. He smashes their faces together rather more forcefully than he intends,
but keeps his mouth there, pressing hard...
Lucius draws back slightly, releasing a warm puff of breath that might be
laughter. "Gently," he chides and kisses Severus again, letting his mouth
linger, increasing the contact and then almost pulling away before doing it
again and again. Without thinking Severus grips his arm, unsure whether or not
he is allowed to breathe, not wanting Lucius to pull back to let him. He lets
out another helpless moan as he feels Lucius' tongue brush his lips.
"Now, I know you like to use your mouth -- you did it so enthusiastically in
the tub," Lucius reminds him, and Severus tries not to whimper. "So I'm going
to kiss you properly, and if you want to suck on my tongue or lick it, you do
that."
Breathlessly Severus nods, and a moment later he feels Lucius' mouth on his
again, urging it open. He parts his teeth, feeling the tongue tracing inside
his lower lip, a sensation that both tickles and makes his prick twitch and
swell. Hesitantly he pushes his own tongue up, encountering Lucius' which
slides over it, up and down in a rhythm like Severus' hand would use to make
himself come. He whimpers again right in Lucius' face, but Lucius does not seem
to mind, freeing Severus' tongue so he can close his mouth slightly and suck on
Severus' upper lip.
"Now you try it," he murmurs when he releases Severus, settling more fully over
him with one thigh between Severus' parted legs. Severus cranes his neck and
with the greatest of enthusiasm slides his tongue into Lucius' mouth, tasting
his lips, the shocking softness inside his cheek, the ridge behind his teeth.
When he finds that he must break off to breathe and swallow, Lucius' hand
returns to stroking his hair. "You can put your arms around me, you know," he
smiles, rocking forward just enough to send bursts of heat through Severus'
groin.
Severus can feel that Lucius is hard -- harder than he was when Severus tried
to use his mouth on him, leaving a damp streak along his thigh. Yet Lucius'
back is relaxed beneath his hands, smooth and flat as he strokes up it, finding
the back of Lucius' neck and pulling his head down for another kiss. Lucius'
hair falls across the side of his face, soft and sweet-smelling; his tongue
returns to explore, showing Severus places in his mouth that he did not know
could hold so much sensation. His body is burning everywhere they touch, places
he had never thought to rub like the insides of his elbows as well as his
nipples and along his collarbone.
And Lucius is still rocking gently, his thigh pressing up and back over
Severus' prick in the same rhythm that their tongues are thrusting together.
Holding him, kissing him like a lover, passionate and tender. Too late Severus
feels his muscles going rigid, his balls tightening, "I'm, ahh, I'm..." and
hears Lucius' whispered response:
"I know you are.
The spasms wrack his body, making him arch against Lucius; he feels the spurts
from his prick gushing between them, wetting them both. Lucius is still wrapped
around him, murmuring what sounds like encouragement; his fingers stop stroking
Severus' hair as if afraid of distracting him when he begins to gasp but they
resume as he quiets. Mortified, Severus tries to keep his face against Lucius'
shoulder, but Lucius lifts himself up to look down at him.
"Isn't this better than trying to force things?"
Severus' mouth is still tingling from Lucius' kisses; he gnaws his lower lip.
"I wanted to make you come," he says shyly.
Sliding his hip to the mattress, Lucius settles at his side and pulls Severus
to face him. Lucius' prick pokes up in the middle, and they both look down at
it, watching it twitch as Severus reaches out a finger to wipe a streak of come
from Lucius' skin. To Severus' surprise, Lucius catches his wrist and lifts it,
licking the tip of the dirty finger as Severus shivers. Then he draws the
finger into his mouth, sucking down to the knuckle, sliding it over his tongue,
teasing the center.
"Now pay attention," he admonishes, his smile undercutting the stern tone as he
begins to tease Severus' finger with his mouth, using his breath and the
underside of his lip and the merest suggestion of teeth, holding it firmly in
one hand. Severus whimpers helplessly, squirming; his prick is hypersensitive
from ejaculating, and it feels as though Lucius is doing to it what he's doing
only to this single finger.
"You want to be very careful with those teeth," whispers Lucius, blowing hard
on the fingertip, then sucking up and down rhythmically to the bottom knuckle a
few times. "And you can use your whole face -- " He rubs his nose up and down
the length, licks across the top of the palm, moves back up the finger pressing
down with his chin.
Severus bites his lip again to keep from moaning, straining to touch Lucius'
chest with the hand trapped beneath his own body. "Now can I...?" he pleads.
Smiling, Lucius offers him one of his own fingers. With a soft moan, Severus
sucks it in at once before he remembers that he is supposed to be demonstrating
a more refined technique and withdraws, attempting to tease the fingertip with
his tongue. He is still looking at Lucius, who is still grinning at him, not
looking displeased at his eagerness; Lucius' prick is throbbing against
Severus' hip.
"Why don't you let me help you," he says softly. Withdrawing his finger, he
gets to his knees, gesturing for Severus to sit up once more, then pushes his
shoulder until he is slouching against the pillows. Shuffling forward, Lucius
straddles his legs, kneeling directly above his face with his swollen prick
bobbing just out of reach of his mouth. Retracting the foreskin fully, Lucius
grasps the base, shifts his weight forward and rubs the head against Severus'
lips.
"Just taste," he warns. "Don't try to suck it."
Severus' tongue shoots out of his mouth like a snake's, catching the bead of
moisture gathering at the tip. It is sweeter and saltier than come, and Severus
pulls his tongue in to swallow it before he returns to licking the
enthusiastically throbbing shaft which Lucius is stroking up and down from the
base halfway to Severus' lips. "That's good," he murmurs, eyes drifting closed.
Severus reaches one hand beneath Lucius' to cup his balls, which makes Lucius
moan and spread his legs a bit more widely. "That's very good...ohh."
Severus feels his own prick twitch; he has not touched it since he came, but
all his senses are filled with Lucius and the sight and sounds and taste and
smell and feel of him stroking himself against Severus' lips is unbearably
arousing. Increasing his tongue's attentions to the head of the prick, Severus
strokes a finger around behind the balls, feeling for that spot that has
fascinated him since he first saw Lucius touching it. The noises coming from
the man's throat are no longer coherent, and his hand is moving urgently,
bumping into Severus' chin in his haste.
"Close your eyes," says Lucius in a strangled voice, clamping his other hand on
Severus' shoulder as if he wishes to be certain that Severus will not move his
mouth away now. His hips thrust forward, shoving his prick into his own hand
and Severus' face. It is much more difficult to lick it now, with his eyes shut
and Lucius no longer holding still for him, so Severus removes his hand from
Lucius' tensing balls to grasp a buttock.
The moment he squeezes it, Lucius lets out a roar and hot fluid sprays over
Severus' lips and cheek. He wants so much to look at Lucius, but the first
spurt strikes very near his eye, and when his tongue finds the head he receives
a mouthful of hot bitter come that he must concentrate on swallowing before it
makes him choke. Lucius' fingers are still gripping his shoulder; Severus does
not think that he is capable of releasing him now, and the understanding that
he has made Lucius lose that small measure of control makes up for the burning
in his throat.
After a few moments Lucius slows, unclenching his fingers and sliding his now-
wet prick away from Severus' face. Hesitantly Severus opens his eyes. Lucius is
looking down at him with his lips parted, eyes half-closed; it is difficult to
know whether he looks sated or slightly overwhelmed. Severus can see his throat
working as he swallows before he asks in a thick voice, "Did you like that?"
Nodding, Severus removes his hand from Lucius' backside to wipe his face. At
this Lucius smiles, and he thinks that perhaps he should lick his fingers
clean, but he does not believe that he can swallow any more, so instead he
wipes his hand on his belly. Following the movement of the fingers, Lucius
looks down to see that Severus is hard again and smiles approvingly. "I see
that you did."
Severus is not certain whether he is supposed to be ashamed that he enjoyed
letting Lucius come on him like that. He bites his lip, but Lucius leans over
and kisses his sticky face, sliding downward, removing his hand from Severus'
shoulder to rest on his own elbow. "I could take care of that," he says
casually, brushing his mouth against Severus' prick, then looking up at his
gasp. "Would you like that? Or have you had enough?"
"Oh -- not enough -- " Involuntarily Severus' hips have canted upward, trying
to bring his prick within range of Lucius' mouth again. He flushes all over his
face and chest. "Oh yes please..."
Lucius is still smiling as he lowers his mouth, eyes locked on Severus' while
he grasps the prick in his hand, plays with the foreskin and tip with his
fingers and then swipes his tongue brazenly over and around the crown. He makes
a show of covering his teeth with his lips before letting his mouth descend,
continuing to move his tongue, licking at the head while faint sucking pressure
tugs at the shaft. It is like nothing Severus has ever felt before and he lets
out a keening wail. Quickly Lucius releases him, looking up. "Too much?"
"Oh please no don't stop please!" The moment the words are out of his mouth he
wants to swallow them back, but Lucius does not seem to mind them; with a
wicked grin, he lowers his head again and repeats it all, then licks his way
down the shaft to take one of Severus' balls into his mouth, holding it very
gently and moving his tongue back and forth across the underside. Severus has
his legs spread so widely at this point that the muscles in his thighs are
straining, but he does not care; he does not care about anything but the fact
that Lucius Malfoy is touching him like this, showing him how, making him come.
It happens shockingly fast, when Lucius has finished with his other testicle
and slides his lips back onto his prick. He begins to bob his head up and down,
putting pressure on the shaft and continuing to use his tongue around the head,
nudging one particular spot somewhere below the slit. Helplessly Severus arches
upward, thrusting himself deeper into Lucius' mouth, feeling Lucius close his
throat reflexively; he has no control, neither to stop himself from spilling
over nor to pull back enough to avoid filling Lucius' mouth, but Lucius does
not seem surprised, withdrawing his lips to circle the head and swallowing
everything that Severus pumps out.
"Now, will you remember what I did and think about it often, so that you'll
know what to do next time?" asks Lucius with an entirely naughty expression
when he has raised his head and watched Severus attempt to catch his breath.
Nodding, for he still does not trust his voice, Severus slides lower on the
pillows, hoping that Lucius will lie over him again. At first the older man
crawls up at his side, looking down at him as he rests on an elbow, but when
Severus tilts his head up toward his mouth, he rolls to kiss him and does not
pull away.
"One of the best things about this room is that it cleans itself up," Lucius
murmurs when Severus reluctantly frees his lips so he can breathe. "Not you,
though..." He licks over Severus' cheekbone, where Lucius' semen has dried, and
kisses each of Severus' eyelids when his eyes drift shut.
With a contented hum, Lucius lets his head fall to rest beside Severus on the
pillow. "What did you like best?" he asks drowsily.
"The -- " Pausing, Severus is mortified to realize the ease with which he
almost admitted that it was the kissing. "Just -- everything."
"You're a very good student," says Lucius smugly. "I'm not going to fuck you
until you've shown me you're ready...and then it will be your reward."
***** Exemplary Conduct *****
With a dedication surpassing that which he devotes to his homework in Potions,
Charms, Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts, Severus Snape engrosses
himself in the studies assigned to him by Lucius Malfoy.
Honeydukes sweets are no longer pleasures in themselves but opportunities to
practice licking and sucking. Baths not only let him clean himself but give him
the chance to explore his body, to discover its sensations and determine which
reactions he can control. Mealtimes, even when no one speaks to him, become a
sensual delight, for he can surreptitiously revel in the taste and feel on his
tongue of each morsel, and at the same time he can teach himself restraint -
- not to stuff himself, not to devour treats best savored one at a time.
Praise from Lucius means more to him than any Outstanding mark he might
receive, for the lessons are infrequent and Severus is impatient. Unlike the
academic subjects in which he can catch up during the summer or next year if
necessary, Lucius will be within his reach only for these short months before
leaving Hogwarts forever. The pursuit requires sacrifice, missing afternoons
down by the lake when Severus' peers presume he is holed up in the library,
then isolating himself even further by missing study sessions.
One day, when Severus has been caught unfairly along with his Gryffindor
classmates upon whom he had been spying as they set up an elaborate prank,
Lucius coolly suggests that the Slytherin culprit should clean the prefect's
bathroom as his punishment. Though he is innocent, Severus grudgingly accepts
this fate because he knows that the Head Boy will find him there. By the time
Lucius arrives, Severus has very nearly filled the tub with soapy bubbles that
would have allowed him to pretend that he was cleaning if anyone else had
walked in. He is edgy with anticipation, and when Lucius settles beside him at
the edge of the tub, he gives Severus a mock scowl in response to the look with
which he is faced.
"Don't tell me you're angry with me for getting you detention in this room. I
thought that you'd be pleased to have two hours alone with me in the middle of
the week."
"Of course I am," says Severus, then bursts out: "But I had nothing to do with
that hex they put on those Ravenclaws. It was Potter's idea, and Black's
bragging was the reason they got caught..."
Lucius has narrowed his eyes. "You don't like Black? He's from a very well-
connected family, you know. It's a shame he ended up in Gryffindor; nearly all
the others have been Slytherin." Severus thinks of the very pretty Narcissa
Black, whom he doubts even knows that he exists, and of Sirius, who for some
reason has singled him out as a subject for torment. "Anyway, it isn't as if
you have to serve detention with him." And that idea leads to one which is
worse. If handsome, wealthy Sirius Black had been Slytherin, might he be here
with Lucius now instead of Severus?
The thought is intolerable, but of course it cannot be expressed aloud. "It
isn't fair," fumes Severus instead. "Lupin didn't get detention and I'm sure he
helped them. And I've got to put up with them till I get out of this school."
He has been considering what Lucius said about how he would do well to find
more friends his own year...but there is no one he wants to be with, no one to
whom he would dare confide the shocking transformation he has undergone since
he first broke in to this bathroom. So there is no one to whom he can express
the unhappiness and frustration that plague him, for he is at Lucius' mercy: he
must depend on Lucius to find time to meet, to take him someplace where no one
will find them. But Lucius is Head Boy, a seventh-year finishing his studies,
and has many other matters to occupy his attention. Unlike Severus, he does not
exist from moment to moment anticipating these meetings. If Severus hadn't been
caught hanging around Black, Lucius might not have spoken to him for another
week.
As if he senses that not all of Severus' bitterness is directed at Black,
Lucius reaches out and strokes his hair, which as usual is clinging to his skin
in the steamy room. "We're here, aren't we? Doesn't that make you happy?"
"Yes," says Severus, and then, without thinking, "I've never even seen your
dormitory."
Sitting back a bit, Lucius regards him. "You want to be taken to my bed?" he
asks softly. It makes Severus very sorry that he spoke, for he knows this is
asking too much, for practical reasons such as the likelihood of getting caught
as well as for more intimate reasons. He bites his lip on an apology, but
Lucius only looks pensive and pushes his hair back behind his ear. "You're
trying to hurry things along again, Severus. I wanted you here for a reason,
you know -- there are some things that it's better to try in a room filled with
soap bubbles and water."
At the suggestive look on Lucius' face and the softest brush of his lips,
Severus indeed finds that he can ignore how he came to be in the prefect's
bathroom, for the invitation to kiss and put his hands on Lucius drives most
other thoughts from his mind. He knows that his kisses are still too greedy,
yet Lucius accepts them as if he expected nothing else, letting Severus put his
arms around him and hold on with an urgency that Severus doubts he will ever
learn to control. He was hard before Lucius ever entered the room and now he is
achingly so, already looking for excuses to rub up against the man's firm warm
body.
"Wait. You'll like this." One of the jeweled spigots releases bubbles that are
the size of a grown man and will float on the surface of the water like an
inflatable raft on the surface of a lake, warm and unbreakable without a spell
to pop them. Lucius reaches over to turn that tap, setting loose a large
floating cushion in the midst of the water and suds. "Climb aboard," he murmurs
in an amused voice, urging Severus down into the tub. "On your belly. There are
charms that would work just as well for this, but sometimes it's more fun
getting clean this way."
Slipping into the water behind him, Lucius helps lift Severus onto the bubble
with his feet sticking out off the edge. Then Lucius hoists himself partway up
behind Severus, making the surface tilt alarmingly before he settles partly
over Severus' back with his legs submerged. With one hand he reaches over the
side, scooping up a handful of warm, soapy water that he begins to rub into
Severus' lower back and bum. It feels good -- relaxing and arousing -- and
Severus feels his frustrations dissolving, for the moment, beneath the strong
fingers.
Then Lucius' thumb slides into the crack between Severus' buttocks and sweeps
downward, casually, as if it had slipped in by accident. Catching his breath,
Severus parts his legs very slightly and lifts his hips as much as he dares.
Lucius touches him there again deliberately, letting the thumb move in little
circles while the rest of his hand tightens on Severus' arse. After a few
minutes of silence apart from the fizzing of bubbles in the water and Severus'
shaky breathing, he asks, "Do you like that?"
"Yes," whispers Severus, painfully hard and squirming between the accommodating
surface of the bubble and Lucius' palm. Perhaps finally Lucius will touch him
inside, perhaps today Lucius will let Severus demonstrate that he has been
trying to learn...
The thumb makes two more brief, gentle circles of the opening, then slides away
as Lucius scoops another handful of bubbles and water from the tub. "The first
time I ever heard of what I'm going to do," he says very matter of factly,
washing Severus in a manner that makes him feel simultaneously wanton and like
a dirty little boy, "I kept thinking about how unclean it must be. But you're
very clean now, aren't you, Severus?"
As if to make sure, Lucius' fingers rub firmly over the puckered spot and
Severus moans loudly, thrusting his hips back. "You've been touching yourself
here, haven't you," guesses Lucius in a voice that suggests it's another
naughty secret between them. One fingertip probes deeper, barely breaching the
hole, so close to what Severus wants...
Then the fingertip is gone and Lucius slides away off the back of the bubble.
Severus whimpers in protest, which seems to amuse Lucius: "Tsk. So impatient."
The pressure of Lucius' body surfacing behind him spreads his legs wide, and he
understands what Lucius means to do just as he feels Lucius' arms wrap over the
backs of his thighs and the swipe of a tongue along the curve of his arse...
And Lucius puts his mouth oh just there. Kissing, at first, lightly, teasing
the surface with pursed lips before letting his tongue graze the tiny wrinkles,
each of which seems to hold as much sensation as Severus' prick, which is
cushioned against the bubble that molds itself to his body each time he shifts.
What Lucius is doing makes him writhe helplessly though he wants to hold still
for that tongue, which probes the hole, slipping in more easily than Severus'
finger ever has even if he sucked on it first. Lucius pushes his tongue in
once, twice, again, he is thrusting it into Severus, he is fucking Severus with
his tongue, while Severus' swollen prick throbs and shoves against the bubble
that follows his every movement.
It is too much pleasure, and no matter how he tries to distract himself
thinking of potion formulas Quidditch scores werewolf fangs containment spells
anything, he cannot hold out against it. Once again Lucius makes him come with
a loud cry, feeling contractions and spasms in places he has never been aware
of before. He is terrified that he is in fact still not clean enough and Lucius
will find him disgusting, but when it is over Lucius is still there.
By the time Severus has recovered enough to speak, the bubble beneath him has
washed away the mess he has made on his belly and Lucius has flopped over him,
nudging the back of his thigh with his erection and uttering a satisfied,
"There." It strikes Severus very suddenly that perhaps Lucius means to fuck him
right now, here in the tub without giving him a chance to prepare himself in
his mind for the event. He feels a spike of panic deep inside and tries to
close his legs so suddenly that he nearly knocks Lucius off his back.
"Careful!" objects Lucius sharply, steadying himself, then slipping off Severus
entirely to turn on the tap again, creating another enormous bubble so that the
two side-by-side very nearly fill the width of the tub. Lunging on to it,
Lucius draws alongside Severus and leans over to look at his face. "Are you
uncomfortable?" he asks in a more concerned tone.
"No -- I'm sorry, I just moved the wrong way," mutters Severus. He knows that
he apologizes too often to Lucius, who expects explanations but not contrition,
and he fears that Lucius will recognize his alarm and shame. "I didn't know
what you were trying, um. Do you want me to do that to you?" The idea that
Lucius might allow Severus to put any part of himself inside, even his tongue,
overrides any squeamishness he might have felt, but after a moment Lucius
shakes his head.
"It is rather slippery in here, isn't it? And my skin is wrinkling from all the
bubbles." Lucius looks at him speculatively. "My dormitory should be empty; the
others will be down at the lake. I suppose that this is as good a time as any.
Would you like me to take you to my bed?"
"Yes!" Severus twists so quickly to face him that he slides off the bubble,
landing with a splash in the tub and surfacing with an undignified splutter.
When he catches his breath, red-faced and gasping, he finds Lucius looking down
at him not with the mockery he fears, but with an affectionate smile.
"So eager," he murmurs, slipping into the water with Severus. He stretches one
hand out of the tub to turn a tap, and after only a brief jet from it, all the
bubbles have vanished, leaving them floating in clear cool water that rinses
the froth from their skin. "That's better," says Lucius, reaching under the
surface to see that Severus is indeed clean, then tugging him to the side of
the tub with one powerful stroke. "Now out you go, and get dressed."
On the way to the Slytherin common room they pass Professor Slughorn, who gives
Severus a nod and turns a bright smile on Lucius. Severus is wary of Slughorn,
with his circle of followers and his unfair favoritism; still, Potions is his
best subject, thanks to the copious notes his mother left for him, and he knows
that being seen in Malfoy's company can only enhance his stature in the eyes of
his Head of House. "No more misbehaving with Gryffindors," Slughorn admonishes
him with a jovial chortle, and Severus grits his teeth. "You'll keep an eye on
this one, won't you, Lucius?"
"Certainly, sir," replies Lucius with a sincere smile. "I've just now promised
to help Snape with his homework." Slughorn beams, Severus flushes, and with an
elegance possessed by few men so young, Lucius sweeps past the portly teacher
toward the dormitories.
Though all the beds in the dungeon room have been hung with identical curtains,
Severus could tell at once which belonged to Lucius even if he did not
recognize the oversized pillows in fine linen cases which had been reproduced
in the Room of Requirement. The covers have been pulled meticulously into place
with a stripe of satin sheet folded across the blanket at the top. A heavy
silver snake paperweight sits on the bedside table looking as if it is guarding
the quills and books piled there.
Kicking his shoes beneath the table, Lucius sits on the bed and indicates with
a gesture that Severus should do the same. He does so, pulling his legs up
beneath him, and Lucius reaches to tug the curtains closed around them,
cocooning them within the dimness of the green tapestries.
"I've never had a boy in this bed," Lucius says conversationally as if the
thought has only just occurred to him, lifting an eyebrow when Severus shivers.
"Some purebloods frown upon this sort of thing, you know. I've never understood
why. So long as a man produces an heir from a strong bloodline, why shouldn't
he enjoy himself?"
Though he nods, Severus thinks privately that this is a surprising admission
from someone in Malfoy's position -- even potentially dangerous. Abruptly he
realizes that Lucius did not disapprove when he believed that Severus had been
involved in the prank on the Ravenclaws but likely admired him for it; his
disapproval of Black and Potter would arise not from their mischief but from
their carelessness in getting caught.
Indeed, ponders Severus, Lucius is far more concerned with appearances than he
first suspected. Hadn't he asked Severus to stop following him, and hasn't he
been very careful to stress that these meetings must be their secret? Now
Lucius is removing his clothing, piling it neatly in a corner within the
confines of the curtains where no one entering the dormitory might see it and
wonder. For all the privileges of being Lucius Malfoy, he has far more to lose
if he is ever caught behaving inappropriately. The Head Boy casts a silencing
charm on the bed and places his wand beneath the headboard, as if he cannot
allow it out of his sight.
Removing his own robes, Severus makes a pile in the opposite corner and shifts
onto his knees to look at Lucius, who has slouched against his pillows with his
eyes half-closed and his hair fanned about his face. He looks lazy and
decadent; Severus has an urge to crawl over him, to kiss his lips swollen and
rub against him until the pale skin flushes and Lucius groans, thrusting back.,
But surely Lucius would never want to lie beneath him and let him do anything
of the sort, and he flushes hotly as he realizes that his body has revealed his
arousal just from looking.
Ducking his head, he crawls over Lucius and kisses his belly, for this at least
has never been denied to him. When Lucius shifts his legs, giving Severus
better access, he dares to kiss the crown of Lucius' prick, and at the
encouraging noise from Lucius' throat, he cautiously nudges the foreskin out of
the way so that he can lick Lucius properly. The taste is rich and strong,
particularly since Lucius' belly is so clean and bland by comparison.
Holding the base of the prick in his hand, Severus licks and sucks at the head,
glancing up at Lucius' face from time to time to be certain that he is doing
this right; then, when Lucius whimpers softly and pushes up a bit against his
lips, he dares to take more of the shaft into his mouth, taking care to cover
his teeth with his lips as he does so. He remembers how Lucius stroked himself
with his hand while offering only the very tip to Severus and begins to move
his wrist. Again Lucius groans, shifting to give Severus more space to work
between his legs, spreading his arms as well. To Severus' surprise he reaches
over his head and picks up his wand.
It is difficult to watch Lucius and suck the prick properly at the same time,
yet Severus wants to do both, to pleasure the man and watch him enjoying the
experience. He wonders whether Lucius wants to do something perverse with the
wand or only to hold it like a talisman of power. When Lucius flicks the wand
at the curtains, the ties that would have held the panels of fabric open if
they had not been pulled closed begin to move. They stroke his face, sliding
over his armpits and wrapping sinuously around his arms. Severus can feel as
well as see Lucius responding to this additional stimulation; the prick swells
in his mouth. The ends of the curtain fastenings wraps themselves into knots
around Lucius' wrists, pulling tight, lifting his upper body as they tug at his
arms.
Even though Severus has played no part in this surrender, it is deeply arousing
to see Lucius restrained, unable to touch himself, dependent upon Severus for
his release. His hips are pumping upward in a steady rhythm, not quite
thrusting; he is permitting Severus to set the pace. Cautiously Severus takes
him in slightly deeper, discovering that he can do so without gagging. He
speeds up his hand on the thick muscle the way he would like to touch his own
stiff prick, which he rubs against Lucius' leg while he sucks. He thinks about
what Lucius did to him in the tub, and how Lucius touched himself the first
time he watched him, and lets his fingers wander behind the balls to the tight
pucker that quivers beneath his touch.
Lucius cries out, straining against the curtain cords, his entire body tensing.
Severus tries to look at his face, but a moment later his throat is flooded
with hot bitter liquid and it takes all his concentration to swallow it without
choking. It is not until Lucius has collapsed flat against the mattress,
withdrawing, that Severus feels the triumph of having made Lucius come in his
mouth. His throat is burning and the back of his nose feels funny, as if he
needs to sniffle, but the sight of Lucius with his arms slack in the ties and
his hair askew around his face is more than enough compensation.
"Finite Incantatem," mutters Lucius in a hoarse voice, and the curtain
fastenings release him. Eyes closed, he rubs his wrists, then peers at Severus.
"You learn quickly. You did that very well." Blushing at the praise, Severus
lowers himself to lie beside Lucius, not quite daring to touch him until Lucius
rolls with a grunt onto his side and runs a fingertip along Severus' erection.
"So eager," he says again, with a hint of smugness, and begins to tease Severus
with all his fingers. "You want to come again for me, in my bed, don't you?"
Breathlessly Severus nods, reaching up to grip a pillow as the hand starts to
stroke him expertly. Lucius' face hovers above his own, watching his reactions;
Severus wishes that he would kiss him, but at the same time he finds it
exciting to be studied in this way. The hand clutching the pillow stretches
above his head toward the wall, but he does not know the spell that Lucius used
to make the curtain cords creep over his skin and bind his wrists. "What's that
spell to make the cords move?" he groans at Lucius, who glances directly into
his eyes.
Lifting his wand in his free hand, Lucius points at the cords and says,
"Involito!" This is not the spell that Severus heard him whisper before, but it
does make the cords and the backs of the curtains sway across his arms and
face, waving and caressing gently. "Do you like the way that feels?" asks
Lucius, bending to brush a kiss across his mouth.
"Yes," Severus says, and then, "How do you make them knot?"
Lucius is rubbing his nose against Severus' cheekbone so that Severus cannot
see his eyes. His breath stutters softly on Severus' skin as he raises his wand
again. "Redimio." Instantly Severus feels the cords begin to tighten like
fingers on his wrists, wrapping and pulling at his arms, spreading him wide,
leaving him completely exposed.
For a split second he feels panic as he did in the tub, but he remembers that
Lucius did this to himself with him, left himself so unprotected, and the panic
dissolves into thrill. He had thought at first that perhaps Lucius' intention
was merely to have his skin stimulated by the fabric -- that the slow knotting
and tugging were merely incidental. But now, with his arms straining against
the headboard, Severus is certain that Lucius wanted to be tied up. He is
unsure whether to be sorry or relieved that Lucius did not ask him to do it but
used a spell, maintaining control over the experience; he suspects that Lucius
did it that way not from any fear of granting Severus such power over him, but
from concern that Severus would be disturbed if he asked.
The older man is watching him again with an intent, guarded expression, and
Severus shuts his eyes, letting out a quiet, needy moan as he arches his hips
toward Lucius' fingers. Immediately the hand speeds up its attentions, tugging,
pulling insistently at Severus' prick. "That's it," says Lucius in a tone of
surprise, as if he had not expected Severus to respond with such enthusiasm.
"Let go. Give in to it. Come for me..." And he keeps talking in that low
maddening voice until Severus does, clenching and unclenching his bound hands
as his body jerks and shudders through the jolts of the eruption from his
prick.
When it is over, Lucius is looking down at him with an unfamiliar expression,
though certainly not an unpleasant one. He appears startled, though whether
this is at Severus' response or at his own, Severus cannot guess. Raising his
wand, he utters one spell to clean Severus and another to release him from the
cords, though his own hands have slid to Severus' aching wrists before Severus
can draw them down. He does not speak as he strokes them, tracing the deep red
imprints with gentle fingers.
Willing submission to another for pleasure rather than gain does not seem to
Severus to be a very Slytherin trait, but perhaps the pleasure is its own
reward. Perhaps Lucius believes it would reveal greater weakness to deny
himself the things that excite him than to admit that he enjoys surrendering in
that way. Severus remembers what Lucius said to him the first time he had asked
permission to touch him: We can't have everything we want, you know. Not even
when we come of age. He thinks about the fact that Lucius is only barely an
adult who may not have very much experience testing such limits outside of
Hogwarts, where adult witches and wizards are not sorted into Houses but must
negotiate their own places in the world.
Is it possible that Lucius enjoys him not in spite of his inexperience, but
because of it -- because Severus does not know enough to question, or to judge?
He had not thought that he had anything to offer the older man besides
compliance, and had feared that Lucius must feel greatly superior at Severus'
willingness to oblige him. But Severus has also wondered why Lucius would sully
himself with someone he could not respect, and now he thinks that maybe Lucius
actually admires him for such a direct display of desire, no matter how clumsy
and childish it might have been. For all his wealth and his position, perhaps
Lucius has not been so fortunate in his ability to seek out what he wants.
Hesitantly Severus slides a hand up a muscular arm, pulling the man closer.
"You're a good boy, Severus," Lucius tells him with a smile, without the
condescension that a parent or a teacher might offer for proper behavior.
If he can be good for Lucius, Severus knows, he will find it more rewarding
than any outstanding mark, any praise for his conduct, even any physical
pleasure. "Thank you," he says humbly, and when Lucius kisses him, he is
certain that winning the Quidditch Cup could not rival this feeling.
***** Holiday Gifts *****
Severus Snape has never much enjoyed the Christmas holidays. His father drinks
too much and shouts about money. His mother quietly laments the things that
they cannot afford, reminding Severus that he must take extra care with his
school things and his clothes.
He does not mind that all his books are second-hand, for his mother was a good
student and her meticulous notes have helped him in several classes, though he
would never tell her so. But the ugly clothes he receives each Christmas,
hideous Muggle jumpers and already threadbare dress robes, are an
embarrassment, as he does not hesitate to tell her despite the bleak, cowed
look on her face. He cannot allow Lucius Malfoy to see him in such rags!
Truly Severus is more miserable this Christmas than ever before. Trapped at
home in this dirty, miserable Muggle town, there is not even the remotest
possibility that he might see Lucius. Were he in London, he could at least
entertain the fantasy that he might pass Lucius in Diagon Alley or in a park or
museum, but at Spinner's End he does not even want to imagine being spotted by
Lucius. When he was at Hogwarts there was always the chance that he might bump
into the older man in a corridor, even when Lucius was too busy or preoccupied
to acknowledge him. Here there is no hope of seeing Lucius at all.
This would be an unhappy thought itself, but worse, it makes Severus think
about what his life will be like during the summer holidays, when he will not
have a return to Hogwarts to anticipate. For Lucius will not be back at school
in the fall; Lucius will have finished his studies and moved on. Severus cannot
bear to think of a time when Lucius is no longer a part of his daily life even
at such a distance as he must maintain at Hogwarts. Though he is certain that
the Malfoy heir will forget all about him when he has left Hogwarts, Severus
does not know how he will ever do the same. The thought obsesses him, making
him sullen and miserable even when he is given a set of self-correcting quills
for Christmas...so much so that his father notices from his drunken stupor and
taunts that perhaps Severus has gone and fallen in love with a pretty girl who
has no time for him.
In love. It is a new idea to Severus, who has always scoffed at love as
something for silly girls and pompous boys who want to feel important -- not
anything that has to do with him. If his parents ever fancied themselves in
love, it ended long before Severus was old enough to witness his father's
weakness and his mother's inability to stand up to it. He has not associated
his attachment to Lucius with the way adults pair off, nor even with the way
the older students creep off to the Astronomy Tower together and exchange House
rings.
Is he in love with Lucius? He has never heard of such a thing between two boys
-- there are different names for what happens between two boys, all of them
ugly. Lucius, he is sure, would dismiss the notion and find it childish if not
disturbing that Severus had brought it up. Yet the idea does not seem wrong to
him. He holds on to it when loneliness and misery threaten to overwhelm him,
and the next time his father asks nastily whether Severus would prefer to be
with some sweetheart from school, Severus replies defiantly that maybe he
would.
His mother tries not to ask too many questions about Severus' life at Hogwarts,
aware that he will only rebuff her interest. Still, she makes it clear that she
is curious, perhaps even proud of him. He thinks that nothing would please his
mother more than if he married into an old wizarding family, even though she
herself married a worthless Muggle. One afternoon she asks him whether he is
happier at school and seems strangely satisfied when he bursts out that he
would much rather be there than at home.
The next afternoon when Severus returns to the cramped house from a few minutes
of freedom walking by the filthy river, his mother is waiting for him in the
kitchen with a peculiar expression on her face. "You've had an owl," she says,
handing him a heavy cream-colored envelope bearing a dark green seal. Severus
recognizes it at the same moment that his mother observes in a tone of
anticipation, "That's the Malfoy crest."
"Yes," agrees Severus as disinterestedly as possible before turning and running
to his room. He would tear open the envelope on the way but for his fear of
ripping and spoiling the contents. "Dear Severus," he reads when at last he has
removed the precious letter. Lucius, as always, is brief and to the point: he
writes that he hopes Severus' holidays have been enjoyable, mentions that he is
bored with his parents away from the family home in Wiltshire, and asks whether
Severus might like to visit him for a few days if his own parents will spare
him.
More than an hour passes before Severus allows himself to leave his room, for
he is certain that his mother will be able to read his excitement if he asks
her too eagerly for permission to visit Lucius and oh, if either of his parents
should suspect the cause! But when he finally mentions that Lucius has invited
him, making up an excuse about a Slytherin House committee on which he has
volunteered to serve which the Head Boy naturally oversees, his mother is
impressed that he has ingratiated himself with a Malfoy, determined that he
will go to Wiltshire no matter what his father might think and eager to help
him prepare.
When, hesitantly, Severus mentions that he thinks he ought to bring Lucius a
Christmas present even though the actual day has past, his mother agrees
despite the fact that they have almost no money to spare on a proper gift. Just
as Severus is beginning to despair again, thinking that he will never be able
to afford a proper present, his mother reminds him that she was a fine Potions
student and suggests that perhaps they can make Felix Felicis together -- she
has the base ingredients secretly brewing -- with Severus learning the steps to
the complicated process as they work.
As expected, Severus' father objects to the visit even though he has no desire
to spend any time with his son, whom he considers freakish if not queer. But
for once his mother stands up to him, insisting that he should feel honored to
have a son welcomed by a descendant of a wealthy, powerful wizarding family,
which might improve all their fortunes. It makes Severus cringe to imagine
Lucius meeting either of his parents and he is appalled when his mother insists
that of course she must accompany him to Lucius' home -- Severus is too young
to travel by himself, he will need help with his luggage, though Severus is
certain that her primary interest is getting to see the Malfoys' house and to
look at Abraxas' son with her own eyes. He dashes off a brief, embarrassed owl
to Lucius outlining the situation, believing that the only greater humiliation
than confessing to Lucius that his mother will be coming along would be to
appear with her unannounced.
When, finally, his mother has departed, after a lengthy tour of the Malfoy
mansion with Lucius patiently introducing all the people in the portraits,
showing off the antique furniture and ornate chandeliers for an enthusiastic
Eileen Snape, Severus feels a twinge of uncertainty. He had wanted so badly to
be here, to see Lucius in his own home, yet he has no idea precisely what is
expected of him. It is clear that Lucius is every bit as wealthy as his wildest
imaginings. Severus cannot guess what some of the spoons on the table might be
for, nor why there is a toilet-shaped fountain beside the bowl in his bathroom.
And although the bed with its canopies and velvet pillows is magnificent,
nearly the size of Severus' entire bedroom at home, he cannot help but feel a
bit disappointed that he will not be sharing Lucius' room -- even a sleeping
bag on the floor, like he had occasionally used when visiting his Muggle
cousins, would have been welcome.
He is sitting on the vast strange bed feeling lost when there is a knock and
Lucius comes in, having changed his robes from the formal attire in which he
greeted them. "We'll have dinner in a few minutes," he announces. "Here, I
wanted to bring you your Christmas present." Lucius hands him a small, heavy
package wrapped in dark green cloth and a silver ribbon that flies off when
Severus tugs one of its strings. Inside the package are a set of leather-bound
books -- brand new, with their titles embossed in gold on the spine. Glancing
at the titles, Severus realizes with a start that these are books which have
been locked away or banned at Hogwarts; they concern the Dark Arts, including
Magick Moste Evile, which is in the library's restricted section, and Blood
Philters, which was on the list of forbidden Potions books. The last book,
inexplicably, is on healing herbs, lavishly illustrated. "That's the one you
can show your parents when they ask what I gave you for Christmas," says Lucius
with a smile.
Severus is both thrilled and humbled that Lucius would give him such a gift. It
is true that he will have to hide the books carefully away, but this is a gift
that shows respect for Severus' abilities and for his discretion. "I only
brought you something much smaller," he mumbles, removing the potion which his
mother had poured into an old cologne bottle with fancy decorations. "It's
Felix Felicis. I made it for you."
He thinks that this sounds very immature after Lucius' wonderful gift, but
Lucius beams as he takes the small bottle to hold up to the light. "Felix
Felicis! You must be an even better Potions student than Slughorn said you were
-- few seventh-years could manage this. I'm going to save it for a very special
occasion, I promise you."
"You know that you're not allowed to use it for exams or..." Blushing as Lucius
looks over at him, Severus mumbles, "Yes, of course you do."
"Do you really think that I'd bother to cheat on exams?" asks Lucius somewhat
sternly. "What is key with exams, as you will realize by the time you sit your
NEWTs, is to excel in the areas where it is most important, and if you cheat
then it will only hurt you later. As for the others, they are unimportant. Who
cares whether you know the history of dark wizards in Bulgaria centuries ago?"
"Yes," agrees Severus, "It was a stupid thing to say."
"I've told you before that it is only foolish to be dishonest with me or with
yourself," Lucius says mildly. Severus still feels chastized and childish but
he thinks too that Lucius likes to teach him, and does not expect him to be on
equal footing. "But come, we can talk after we eat. Mother refused to serve
plum pudding this year, she couldn't find any currants that she found
satisfactory, so I told the house elves to make it for us instead."
As if he suspects that Severus was not fed a proper Christmas dinner at home,
Lucius seems to have requested everything Severus knows other families have for
such a meal: roast beef, mince pie, custard, wassail, even a cake decorated in
royal icing with scenes of skaters magically dancing over the marzipan. Perhaps
Lucius simply does not enjoy Christmas with his family and wants to celebrate
it again when he can make all the choices for the meal; either way, it is the
best food Severus has ever eaten. At first he tries to display the same
restraint he would show at Hogwarts or if his family were invited to the home
of his Muggle relatives, for his mother always tells him not to make a pig of
himself, but when Lucius begins to put second and third helpings on his plate,
he accepts them gratefully.
After the meal Lucius takes him for a walk in the formal gardens, though the
afternoon light is failing already and Severus can feel the bitter chill biting
into his skin through his thin, unlined cloak. The ornamental plants are
unfamiliar to him -- his own family's small garden consists only of vegetables
they can eat -- and everything seems dried and withered for the winter. But
Lucius does not seem to mind, showing him the pentagonal design and walking him
to the entrance of the grotto.
"Next year you must come before the solstice, and we'll visit the Giant's Dance
and watch the sun set over the altar from the heel stone," he says. Severus
tries not to stare at him. Next year? Next year Lucius will have graduated and
will likely be working for Gringotts or the Ministry of Magic, in London or
anywhere else he chooses, without time for a boy still finishing his studies at
Hogwarts. "There are carolers who come through the...are you cold?" Suddenly
Lucius' eyes have narrowed, taking in Severus' frayed cloak and the lips he is
trying to keep from shivering. "Come back to the house. You're meant to tell me
these things!"
Inside, the elves have fires going in nearly every room, even those which seem
to be in disuse like the large parlor with a dusty harpsichord and a strange
high-ceilinged room with hunt trophies including a hippogriff and numerous
species of bat. "My grandfather's," explains Lucius with disapproval in his
voice. "All killed for sport, not because he intended to use their bodies for
any purpose. It seems to me to be a wasteful hobby; he could have been hunting
werewolves or trapping skrewts."
Severus nods noncommittally; even by the hearth, he still feels chilled, and he
wishes keenly that Lucius would take him to one of the many elegant sofas, put
him under a blanket and rub his body until he was warm. "You aren't really
interested in this," Lucius guesses, seeing Severus' halfhearted acquiescence,
and then, "Father gave me a miniature wizard's chess set for Christmas. It's in
my bedroom. Would you like to play?"
"Yes, please," says Severus at once. He has very little skill as a chess player
but he would have accepted any excuse to see Lucius' bedroom. He follows Lucius
up a staircase, blushing and averting his eyes as the paintings on the wall
look at him and whisper to one another. Lucius seems to have an entire wing to
himself on the second floor, with his own library and an entire room that seems
to serve as a closet.
By the standards of the rest of the house, the bedroom is surprisingly
intimate; one large window overlooks the grounds and two small tables stand on
either side of the headboard, but otherwise the room is nearly devoid of
furnishings apart from large cushions and a single, locked cabinet. The canopy
over the bed is far more lavish than those at Hogwarts, with thick velvet
sashes in addition to the twisted silk cords that hold the curtains back. The
chess set is on the table further from the door; Severus walks around the bed
to reach it, but Lucius sits on the covers and swings his legs up, leaning over
the pillows.
"You see, the pieces are all different dragon species," he says, holding one
out to Severus. The little blue dragon twists in his palm and breathes fire.
"Very useful for lighting a lamp when you've forgotten your wand," continues
Lucius with a smile, taking the miniature reptile and holding it to the sconce
above the table, where the candle inside flickers to life. Then he replaces the
chess piece, draws out his wand and orders all the other lights in the room to
dim.
"It looks better in the dark," Lucius explains, moving over so that Severus can
sit beside him on the bed. "That Vipertooth can light up the whole room -
- she's the queen, you know." When he leans over to point, his hair brushes
Severus' face, making Severus shiver. "Oh...you're still cold. Give me your
hand...your fingers are like icicles. Come back here, under the covers."
Severus' hands are cold because he is nervous, not because he is still chilly,
but now they are between Lucius' and he is being pressed against the pillows,
with the heavy feather-filled mantle being pushed over him. "Let me warm you
up," says Lucius softly, leaning in closer. Please, thinks Severus so hard that
he thinks surely the man must hear him, or perhaps he can read his face,
because he bends and brushes a kiss across Severus' mouth.
With a moan Severus kisses Lucius back, trying to retrieve a hand to pull him
closer, but Lucius keeps the cold fingers between his own, rubbing them as he
keeps placing soft, intoxicating kisses on Severus' lips. No matter how many
times Lucius does this, Severus thinks he will never be able to resist it,
never control his body's helpless response, with each time like the first time.
If he had any doubts about whether he was in love with Lucius -- if he had any
desire to convince himself that it was only about pleasure and power -- Lucius
is kissing them away.
"Are you warm enough yet to take these off?" inquires Lucius, tugging at
Severus' robes. He nods enthusiastically, beginning to unfasten his own clothes
because it's fastest that way, while Lucius smiles approvingly and starts to
take off his things as well. Soon they are naked together under the covers and
Severus shivers once more as Lucius' skin slides along his own. "Would you like
me to show you a way that you can keep warm and we can enjoy each other at the
same time?"
"Oh, yes!"
"Turn around. No, not that way. Get under the covers with your face toward the
foot of the bed." Obediently Severus crawls toward Lucius' feet, the dim light
of the room fading as he slips into balmy softness. He can smell Lucius very
strongly like this -- Lucius' prick has a distinct scent, earthy and a little
salty -- and even if he could not see at all, he would know that Lucius was
hard. As he shifts closer he feels Lucius roll to his side, reaching to hold
his buttocks and bending one of his own legs up. "Turn, here. Yes -- like that.
Now, I'm going to put my mouth on you and if you want you can try to do exactly
what I'm doing, all right?"
"Yes ohh!" It begins even before Severus can speak, the wet warmth of a tongue
against the head of his prick, flicking up and down and teasing him until he
can feel fluid leaking out. He licks Lucius in the same way, delighted in how
much stronger the scent and sensations are in this enclosed place. There is
nothing he can see or feel but what Lucius is doing to him in the bed and what
he is doing to Lucius in turn. Fingers are kneading his bottom, teasing along
the crack, and when he does the same to Lucius his lips are rewarded with
sudden wetness dripping from Lucius' prick, hot and sweet-smelling in the
darkness.
"Mmm. I want you in my mouth," murmurs Lucius, withdrawing a hand from beneath
Severus and using it to push the foreskin back. He keeps it on Severus' prick,
holding the shaft steady for his mouth which circles the tip and begins to
apply gentle suction. Severus raises his head a bit by pushing his shoulder
underneath himself, finds the cock-head and tastes the rich musky dampness
exposed by his fingers.
It is not the most comfortable position in which he has sucked Lucius, and he
feels a faint warning scrape of Lucius' teeth against him when he closes his
mouth incautiously, trying to mimic Lucius' movements. Yet it is one of the
most exhilarating things he has ever done -- being in Lucius' bed, completely
submerged beneath the covers, with Lucius filling his mouth and stimulating his
prick at the same time. He thinks that they must look like two snakes devouring
each other's tails, the alchemical symbol of balance and eternal cycles.
With a soft pop Lucius removes his lips from Severus' prick. "Roll onto your
back," he whispers, pushing on Severus' hip to encourage him. Soon he is flat
on his back with his prick poking up into Lucius' mouth while Lucius rocks in
and out of his mouth, covering him almost completely. It is an overwhelming
feeling, as if Lucius is claiming every part of his body, and Severus welcomes
it: he spreads his legs a bit wider, planting his feet on the pillows, and
tilts his head so that Lucius can thrust further into his throat if he wishes.
And at first Lucius does, but the moment Severus makes a choking noise while
trying to catch his breath, he stops, settling his weight more completely on
Severus and concentrating on sucking him steadily. Even with Lucius' prick
bobbing in his mouth, Severus cannot distract himself from such an onslaught of
attention, and he must part his lips to cry out when he begins to spurt into
Lucius' mouth.
Lucius' prick twitches as the enclosed heat of Severus' tongue and palate gives
way to cooler breath panting around it. He does not let go right away, not
until Severus has recovered his breath and is experimenting deliberately with
alternately sucking and blowing on the eager prick, but when Severus reaches
around his thigh to try to touch the spot he knows Lucius loves to have rubbed,
Lucius lets out a soft grunt and fills Severus' mouth with his slick bitter
come.
Even when it is over and he has gulped down the unpleasantly hot seed, Severus
does not want to move. He loves lying here in bed in the Malfoy mansion with
Lucius filling his senses, his smell and taste and the sounds he makes and the
feel of his skin more than compensating for the near-darkness beneath the
blankets. He does not want to remember home, where his father's drunken breath
and his mother's quiet shuffle dominate all the small rooms in the house; he
does not want to think about Hogwarts, where he has only stolen moments with
this man who is the most important person in his life.
"Are you all right down there?" asks Lucius, clambering off his body and
turning to crawl down beside him. He makes a sniffing noise as if it's too
humid or smells offensive, but he drops next to Severus, lying hip to hip and
shoulder to shoulder as he leans over to kiss him. The taste is odd...because,
realizes Severus, Lucius tastes like him, just as he tastes like Lucius. They
keep kissing until he can no longer tell the difference.
"Let's turn around, I'm starting to smother down here," says Lucius humorously
and helps Severus turn around, wriggling until both their heads have popped out
of the covers and onto the pillows. "You're quite flushed -- warmer now?" When
Severus nods, Lucius turns to bark, "Dobby!" A moment later a house elf
appears, and Lucius says, "Bring us some butterbeer. And some of the Christmas
candy."
After the elf is gone, Lucius sits back with a sigh. "Accio chessboard," he
pronounces. The wizard's chess set rises from the table and shoots over to
them, hovering until Lucius catches it and sets it down between their legs on
the bed.
"I know it's early, but it's already dark and cold out there and I'm feeling
very comfortable here," he tells Severus. "Fancy a game? I'm not really very
good at this, but you can be the New World dragons; their moves are more exotic
and sometimes they refuse to let you put a piece in danger..."
They play with the fierce little dragons until it is fully night, with Dobby
bringing them holiday sausages and cheeses and mulled wine. Lucius wins one
game but the next is very competitive, particularly after Severus' knight
nearly sets the bed on fire. Severus can feel his eyelids growing heavy but he
forces himself to stay alert, fearing that as soon as Lucius notices his
drowsiness, he will be banished to the lonely, decorous guest room.
Eventually Lucius yawns, and with a wave of his wand he sends the chessboard
back to its spot on the table. "I'm sorry to be such a dull host, but I'm
afraid I'm getting sleepy." He smiles winningly at Severus, slides down against
the pillows and pats the bed beside himself. "Let's get some rest, and in the
morning I'll show you all the illegal potions my father keeps in his bathroom
cabinet."
Afraid to move until Lucius takes his arm and tugs him over, Severus lies back
as Lucius orders the last candle out and takes a deep, shaky breath. He is
here, in this magnificent house with all its secrets, with Lucius, alone with
Lucius. It is as if someone had decided to make up for all the unhappy holidays
of his past in one single glorious moment.
"Goodnight," murmurs Lucius, settling beside him, and Severus replies,
"Yes...happy Christmas."
***** Between Terms *****
Severus wakes with an erection. This is not unusual. What is unusual is that
puffs of air -- some warm, some cool -- are drifting over it, as if someone is
blowing on it.
He opens his eyes. Only the palest light of dawn illuminates the room, for it
is early and very near to the shortest day of the year. Still, he can see the
outline of the shape beneath the covers in bed beside him and the ends of long
blond hair trapped by the rumpled edge of the blanket. Lucius has teased him to
alertness. Reaching under the blanket, Severus encounters a handful of sleek
hair and runs his fingers through it, thinking that he would not be surprised
to be shattered into realization by a crash or a shout from his father that all
of this has been a dream.
But Lucius squirms as if the hand in his hair is tickling him and begins to
emerge from the covers. "Good morning," he says as he crawls up to the pillows,
fingers continuing the work his breath has left off. His hair is wildly
disarrayed and his breath is slightly sour with sleep; nonetheless Severus
thinks that he has never in his life been so happy to see anyone as he is to
see Lucius now, and kisses him urgently. With a soft laugh Lucius climbs on top
of him, letting the weight of his body trap Severus while he moves their pricks
together. His hands find Severus' wrists and pin them near his shoulders as he
raises himself to look at Severus' face.
"Did I remember to tell you that this bed is enchanted?" he asks.
"N-no," Severus replies with a breathless little moan, trying to rub up against
Lucius without pressing hard enough to risk dislodging him. "But I'm not
surprised."
"Well, it is," confirms Lucius. "Locomotor!" The previously still curtains
suddenly begin to move, much as the cords had become animated by a spell in
Lucius' bed at Hogwarts, but here the canopy is much more elaborate, with
fabrics of different textures layered both in the drapes themselves and in
their bindings. The material sweeps over the bed, stroking Severus' hair and
all of Lucius' exposed skin. "If you'd like, I'll show you how it works."
Nodding, Severus prods himself against Lucius who is as hard as he is. He loves
the feeling of Lucius holding him down, but Lucius lets go of his wrists and
shifts around to his side. "Perhaps you should watch at first, in case there's
anything you don't like."
The opportunity to watch Lucius pleasure himself is ample compensation for
being released, and Severus shifts eagerly to the foot of the bed, turning to
look at Lucius who sits up against the pillows. His arms spread to the side to
seek out the most rope-like of the fabric bindings that were formerly twisted
together to tie back the curtains. As soon as he catches them both in his hands
and tugs, the cords respond by wrapping around his wrists and tying firm knots,
with a layer of velvet sash between the skin and the rope, keeping his arms
spread and slightly elevated. Layers of material -- some gauzy, some heavy
velvet, and one which looks like flexible leather -- swoop down from the canopy
and begin to stroke Lucius' chest and torso, the heaviest landing with slapping
sounds that leave faint red marks on his thighs.
"Oh," breathes Severus, who is too transfixed even to touch himself though his
groin throbs demandingly. Lucius throws his head back and groans, which may be
a signal or it may be pure coincidence that at that precise moment one of the
soft ties wraps itself like a snake around Lucius' prick and begins to move up
and down sinuously. Lucius' hair waves around his face with the swaying of the
softest, most ethereal curtains and his chest flushes where the heavier velvet
generates friction. The leather is still landing occasional slaps on his thighs
and buttocks when thick cords wrap beneath his arms to lift his bottom off the
bed.
Lucius' eyes crack open, and following their gaze Severus realizes that there
is a small mirror angled within the canopy so that Lucius can see himself bound
and aroused, being pulled over the edge by that relentless twisting fabric on
his prick and the stimulation everywhere else on his body. He is going to make
a great spattering mess when he comes...then he groans and does so, spurting
into the air and wetting several of the fabric ties. It is the most
excruciatingly arousing thing Severus has ever seen, and he thinks that if he
had been touching himself at the moment Lucius' prick sprayed the first jet
out, he would have come himself.
The fabric strips gradually slow their attentions, unwinding from Lucius' prick
and wiping him clean. The ropes binding his arms lower him gently to the bed
and unravel, leaving him flushed and glowing on the pillows. Severus has never
imagined a display so shameless nor so erotic. Crawling forward, he leans over
Lucius to kiss him...
Lucius mutters something, and all the material swaying softly from the canopy
goes into motion at once. Severus finds himself wrapped and lifted as if he had
unexpectedly fallen into a hammock with thick velvet lining and a large hole
just where his prick is sticking out. Smiling up at his startled expression,
Lucius raises himself against the pillows and reaches out for the sides of the
sling in which Severus is suspended, tugging him forward until he is suspended
nearly vertically, facing the wall with his feet brushing the bed. He does not
understand what Lucius means to do until he feels a hand and then a tongue on
his stiff, leaking prick...
Crying out, Severus thrashes in the makeshift cradle, feeling different
textures of material caress his chest and thighs. His hair is falling forward
into his eyes but he cannot propel his arms forward to push it back. Lucius is
sucking him purposefully, not teasing, and his balls are already growing
tight...he is as restrained by the gravity that presses him into the sashes as
if they had tied his wrists, and he can only cry out helplessly the moment
before he pumps a hot gush of seed into Lucius' mouth.
The ties hold Severus steady until he has finished and sags bonelessly against
them. Then they begin to lower him to the bed, slipping away one by one as
Lucius reaches up to guide him down and lets Severus come to rest on his own
chest. "Did you like that?" he asks in a naughty, intimate voice to which
Severus can only respond with a nod and moan. "I've never tried that before.
I've never had anyone else in my bed who was so very enthusiastic about being
restrained."
Despite the satisfaction radiating all through his body, Severus has a
momentary qualm about these words. He does not think he is enthusiastic about
being restrained; what he loves is being restrained in Lucius' bed, for Lucius'
pleasure, and with anyone else in the world he doubts he would enjoy it at all
but consider it degrading instead. He doubts that he can express this to
Lucius, no more than he can tell Lucius that he thinks he is in love, but he
reminds himself to consider it later, when he also considers the fact that
Lucius, who apparently likes to be restrained purely for the feel of it, has
not brought any other boys here to test out and share his fantasies.
His thoughts are interrupted by a kiss from Lucius, whose breath no longer
smells of sleep but of Severus' come. "Let's go wash up and have breakfast.
Then I can show you the very wicked artifacts my grandfather collected."
It surprises Severus to realize that Lucius' parents not only do not share a
bedroom but scarcely a wing of the house. Lucius had skipped the private rooms
when taking Severus' mother through the elegant parlors and libraries, so this
is the first Severus has seen of how the elder Malfoys live. His own parents,
whom he has never thought of as affectionate, still share a small bedroom
except when his father has passed out on the sofa, and it troubles him to think
that perhaps the Malfoys with all their wealth are not particularly happy in
their marriage, either -- more than it troubles him to discover that Lucius'
relatives with all their wealth apparently have a fascination with the Dark
Arts.
Lucius' father indeed has a collection of illegal potions in his locked and
disguised bathroom cabinet, including draughts to lengthen life and love
potions with no known antidote. The bottles are stoppered and labeled, and
Severus has the sense that they are being hoarded rather than used. "Watch
this," says Lucius, pulling a phial from his pocket, uncorking one of the love
potions and pouring out the contents, leaving only a drop in the original
bottle. Then he utters the incantation for the Refilling Charm and waves his
wand, sealing his father's potion and pocketing his own. "This kind makes you
feel everything more strongly," he grins at Severus. "And you won't believe
what it does for your stamina."
"Won't your father be able to tell that the seal was broken?" asks Severus, who
knows that even a brief exposure to air can ruin some potions.
"He'll never notice." Lucius waves a hand. "I think he keeps these to convince
himself that he could control people if he wanted to, not because he plans to
do anything with them. Let's go to the dungeon -- anything the Ministry of
Magic would seize if those Mudblood idiots in charge ever start investigating
the old wizarding families is locked away down there."
And indeed, below the wine cellar and the vast storage rooms filled with dusty
furniture and trunks, the mansion has a dungeon complete with a locked gate and
iron bars. "It's mostly for show -- Slytherin nostalgia," Lucius explains. "But
if you know its secret..." He slips a key into a decoration on the wall and
suddenly the floor begins to move, dropping them into an even lower room.
"Don't touch anything," warns Lucius. "That jewelry is cursed. The crown
belonged to a queen who was beheaded, and everyone who has ever worn that
diamond has died in a fall..."
The room is crammed with objects, some unbelievably cruel -- a piano enchanted
to crush a player's fingers, a crystal pyramid that blinds the viewer who has
the misfortune to shine a light directly upon it -- and some intriguing for
other reasons, like a handwritten draft of an unfinished book of love spells by
Casanova and a deck of cards that, spread correctly, forms what appears to be a
treasure map of southern France. "Why is this hidden away?" he asks Lucius.
"Because it was stolen from a Muggle knight, and the gold paid for much of
what's upstairs," Lucius replies drolly. "All families, even the ancient
purebloods, had to get their wealth from somewhere. Before my father dies he
will tell me where he has hidden the most valuable of the Malfoy heirlooms, so
that I can pass them on one day to my own son."
Severus considers this, focusing on the jewel-studded handle of a sword that
flips itself around when he reaches for it and very nearly cuts his throat
before Lucius tugs him back. "Do you want to get married?" he inquires
cautiously.
"It isn't really a question of want, is it?" responds Lucius. "Of course I want
a child who will follow me. It's our responsibility to father children to
counteract all the weak blood, the Muggle influences..."
"You know that my father's a Muggle, don't you?" asks Severus in a low voice.
"Of course I do. But your mother's a witch -- captain of the Hogwarts Gobstones
team, wasn't she?" This makes Severus gape. He had never thought of talent at
Gobstones to be particularly desirable; it wasn't, after all, like being a
Quidditch champion. "There's nothing wrong with your wizarding skills. It isn't
as if you're a Mudblood. And you were sorted into Slytherin; the Hat must have
seen the potential for greatness in you."
Even as he flushes under this resounding approval from Lucius, Severus thinks
that the Hat does not always seem to choose Slytherins based on potential for
greatness. Some of them seem to be chosen precisely because they make good
minions, with no particular skills of their own besides willingness to aid
those who are stronger. Some of the older boys with whom Lucius associates
seem, from a distance, to fall into that category; they are brutish and, when
Lucius is not nearby, often rude and nasty to younger students, even to one
another if the opportunity arises. Severus has never wished to befriend such
Slytherins of his own year and he guesses that Lucius must play a part among
those boys, rather than discussing some of the interests he has shown Severus.
"When you marry and have children..." Lucius is continuing as if this is a
foregone conclusion, talking about the things Severus could teach his children
about the proper channeling of education and ambition, and Severus must force
himself not to make a face that will show his distraction. He has no desire to
marry, ever, and it makes him unhappy to think that Lucius will, even though it
isn't as if he could ever have hoped to continue to see Lucius after this brief
wonderful time when they are both too young for other obligations. "...if
Dumbledore continues this foolish practice of inviting every Muggle who shows
any capacity for levitating pebbles to Hogw... Don't touch that!"
Severus freezes, hand outstretched halfway. The small onyx button lying atop a
dark circle in the corner of a table had hardly seemed to belong in this room,
and he had wondered whether it had simply fallen from someone's clothing and
been placed here by mistake. "That belonged to Grindelwald," hisses Lucius, and
Severus gasps. Grindelwald's is a name spoken in hushed tones, as if it might
be possible to summon the dark wizard back into the world. He had not guessed
that the rather eclectic collection of objects kept by the Malfoys might
include such a thing.
"Why do you have it?" he whispers.
"Because my grandf...it's a family heritance," says Lucius shortly. Severus can
never recall such shirking from Lucius before -- Lucius is either very direct
or an excellent liar most of the time -- and he knows better than to press the
question, but remains perturbed at both the evasion and the possible connection
between the Malfoys and Grindelwald.
"But come on, I didn't show you the stables," adds Lucius, leading Severus from
the secret chamber before he can ask any additional questions. "Listen, I have
a cloak that I want to give you. It doesn't fit me any more, and I have no
younger brothers -- it would be a waste not to use it." Then Severus is
distracted, protesting that he cannot accept such a gift, even used, for he and
Lucius are very nearly of a height and any cloak that would fit him would still
fit Lucius, though secretly he is thrilled at the prospect of wearing something
that had belonged to Lucius even when they are apart, and the secrets of the
dungeon are forgotten.
Severus can scarcely remain in a saddle while Lucius is a skilled and elegant
rider, yet they spend the brisk afternoon riding to the edges of the property
with a picnic the elves have prepared, which they eat atop Lucius' cloak near
the edge of a glassy lake. It is difficult for Severus to comprehend that all
this will one day belong to someone he knows. He does not feel envy, for all of
this is beyond his most grandiose fantasies; he wishes it might be possible to
live in one of the outbuildings, perhaps serving as the Malfoys' personal
apothecary. Of course in such a scenario he could never be invited to Lucius'
bedroom, but at least he would see Lucius regularly, whereas if he were to take
a job in a shop or working at St. Mungo's, for instance, it would be extremely
difficult even to converse with Lucius.
Back at the house they play with a solid gold set of Gobstones and sit in front
of a fireplace with Severus' new books, where Lucius points out matters of
particular interest, such as the fact that unspoken levitation charms leave a
victim no time to prepare and are therefore more effective than those using
spoken incantations. After the evening meal, Lucius again invites Severus to
his bedroom for a game of chess, and Severus rushes back to his unused guest
bedroom to wash and change into his newest robes.
Lucius is waiting for him in nothing but a silk dressing gown. As soon as
Severus arrives, he beckons him to the bed, kisses him until Severus is moaning
with need and carefully removes his clothes. "Do you know what this is?" he
asks, pressing a small jar into Severus' hand. The container holds a slippery
potion made from crocodile hearts, cactus pulp and ginseng. "I want to feel
your fingers inside me," murmurs Lucius. "Do you want that?"
Severus sucks in a breath, trying to hold steady enough to nod. He has never
dared more than a single finger, terrified of hurting Lucius, though he has
tried opening himself, preparing for the day when Lucius will ask to fuck him,
and imagined the feeling of Lucius tight and hot and soft around him. "Yes -- I
want to try -- "
It is painfully arousing when Lucius gets on hands and knees with his arse
raised in the air, a perfect image of submission, even though he is instructing
Severus all the while, "Make sure you have plenty on your fingers, if it gets
on the bed we can Scourgify later -- taste your finger, you'll see, it's sweet
-- now if you touch me, oh, right there yes that's -- oh Severus you don't have
to put your mouth there if you -- ohh..."
The potion is indeed sweet, though the heady, musky smell of Lucius overwhelms
it when he puts his tongue just below the hole, steels himself and licks up,
telling himself that the noises Lucius is making will make it worthwhile even
if he decides that it's disgusting. It is not: the taste is strange but not
unpleasant, the furrows amusing to explore, and when he finally dares to push
his tongue in deeper, the clenching and urgent whimpers thrill Severus. When
eventually he shifts back it is because his neck is growing uncomfortable, not
because he wants to stop performing this intimate act.
He is still nervous with his fingers, grateful for once for his half-bitten
fingernails, and when Lucius groans and says "Another," he feels great
trepidation pushing the bigger middle finger in alongside the pointer. He can
see a circle of red where he is stretching Lucius and it frightens him, yet
Lucius presses back eagerly, directing Severus to curve his fingers and "push
in just a little ah! That, did you feel that -- ohh right yes not too hard..."
Severus lets himself imagine, for a moment, that it is his prick and not his
fingers thrusting in and out of Lucius, who has his hips raised high above the
mattress and is shamelessly moaning his enjoyment. If he had a way to lock this
feeling away to save for later, he would. His prick is sliding up and down on
the warm skin of the back of Lucius' thigh and the lower curve of his arse, in
the same rhythm as his fingers inside Lucius, and he feels it throb every time
Lucius moans.
"You can put it in if you want," says Lucius softly.
Severus thinks at first that he must have misheard or imagined the words -
- Lucius cannot have made that offer, can he? But Lucius' hand is moving on the
mattress, pushing the small jar back toward Severus.
"You'll need quite a lot, all over your cock. Don't try to rush. It will be
very slippery at first and if you try to push in too fast, you'll end up
thrusting along the crack and making a mess on my back. Take it very slowly,
just the head at first -- don't worry if you feel like you're going to come,
it's very hard to control the first time..."
Lucius' voice is low and calm, almost hypnotic, as Severus withdraws his
shaking fingers from Lucius and opens the jar, scooping the potion into his
palm and beginning to stroke it onto himself. He tries not to allow himself to
think; he is certain that Lucius does not want him to think, which is why
Lucius is speaking in that soothing and distracting murmur, but it is
impossible not to shudder from the thrills that spark through him from knowing
that Lucius has just invited him to fuck him, telling him exactly what to do.
He is afraid of ejaculating in his own slick hand before he can begin; he is
terrified that he will hurt Lucius, even though it is absurd to think that
Lucius would have told him to do this if Lucius was not ready for it and did
not want it.
And what will be the price? Will Lucius then demand that Severus lie beneath
him, open and welcoming, whether or not Severus feels ready? Will this be the
end of his time with Lucius if he fails? He is trembling all over as he moves
against Lucius, who feels it and turns to look over his shoulder at him.
"Severus, if you don't want to, then tell me so. I thought that we would both
enjoy it and I doubted whether you would ever ask." There is only a hint of
chiding in Lucius' voice; he sounds disappointed, not in Severus' lack of
courage, but that he is to be denied this opportunity for pleasure. Despite the
shock that has frozen Severus' other muscles, his prick is just as hard as
before, straining toward Lucius, heedless of the consequences. "If you'd rather
do something else..."
"I'll try." Severus can scarcely recognize his own voice; it feels as though
his heart is beating in his throat. Lucius gives him an encouraging smile, then
lowers his head again, lifting his hips and spreading his legs into a posture
so inviting that Severus cannot help but moan. With his prick in his hand to
hold it steady, he nudges the opening, but it does not part immediately, and
when he pushes harder his prick slips up the crack as his body slams into
Lucius.
"Try again," says Lucius, undeterred, reaching back with a hand to pull one of
his buttocks to the side, opening himself more widely and making Severus
tremble anew with arousal and terror. "Press down a bit, you aren't going to
hurt me, it's quite flexible, make it open for you..."
It is very likely, thinks Severus, that he will come just from listening to
Lucius talk about it. Again he touches his prick to the raised pucker around
the hole, prodding it, wriggling against the soft redness just inside, and then
it happens: the tight ring of muscle widens for him, letting the head of his
prick push in. Lucius makes a choked noise but holds still for him, and now
momentum and the slipperiness of the potion work in Severus' favor, easing him
inside. He feels tight heat surround the top of his prick, a sensation
completely unlike Lucius' hand or even Lucius' mouth.
I'm fucking him, Severus thinks and at once he is in free-fall, his entire body
reduced to the surging in his prick, which thrusts in until it meets resistance
but is already overflowing inside Lucius, coming inside Lucius; he convulses,
very nearly screaming, unable to separate the pleasure of release from the
pleasure of what caused it, doing this, being allowed to do this, by Lucius,
with Lucius...he is sobbing before it is finished, great explosions of air
bursting from his lungs though he can't remember inhaling, and he is grateful
for it because if he could speak he might utter something unforgivable.
"Are you all right?" asks Lucius, tilting his head back without twisting to
look at him. Severus realizes that Lucius is trying not to dislodge him before
he is ready to withdraw. When Severus does not speak, he continues in a
shockingly ordinary voice, "It gets easier. Sometimes I think it's easiest if
one's first time is with a stranger one will never have to see again, but
that's somehow impersonal, don't you think?"
"I...oh..." It is impossible to formulate a reply, let alone to speak it, while
he is still inside Lucius. Very carefully he begins to pull back, not wanting
the moment to end and also not wanting to remain for an instant longer than he
is welcome. His softening prick is tugged briefly by the tight opening, making
the head tingle as it slides back out into the cooler air. He rests against
Lucius' back while the man shifts beneath him, straightening his knees so that
they are both lying flat, with Severus draped over Lucius' relaxed body. After
a moment he musters his courage and asks, "Is that what you did?"
He can feel Lucius' shoulders tense and curses himself inwardly for having
asked such a private question, but a moment later he can feel Lucius nodding,
the muscles in his shoulders shifting as damp hair cascades against Severus'
chin. "I acted as though I'd done it before. I wanted to get it out of the way.
Perhaps it was careless to waste it on a stranger but at the time it seemed
safer."
He does not say safer than what and Severus does not dare ask, though he is
intensely curious now. Is it possible that Lucius Malfoy was ever attracted to
someone he could not have? Or does Lucius simply mean that the prejudices among
his peers made it wiser not to seek out the sort of contact he desired from
anyone who knew them? Pondering this, Severus is quiet for too long, and when
Lucius twists suddenly to look at him, he slips off the man's back to lie at
his side.
Lucius' mouth is a thin line, and something behind his eyes has closed off;
Severus cannot tell whether he is angry, bitter or -- is it possible? -
- uneasy. In a voice that betrays nothing, he asks Severus, "You aren't sorry
about this, are you?"
"No!" Severus avows fervently. "I mean, I'm sorry I couldn't wait and I'm sure
it was terrible..."
He knows he is babbling, but the dark expression dissolves from Lucius'
features as he speaks. "No it wasn't," protests Lucius mildly, reaching over to
stroke his hair. "I wasn't expecting you to perform like a professional. I like
your spontaneity. Haven't you noticed?" The words make Severus' face burn as
Lucius continues, "Now that you know how it feels, you'll want to do it again
soon, and you'll want it to last longer, so you'll work on your control. And
when you see how much I like having you there, I expect you'll want to
experience it from the other side as well. It may have seemed fast but I plan
to keep enjoying it for a long time."
Again Severus is afraid to speak; he is certain that if he opens his mouth, he
will tell Lucius he loves him and ruin everything. Instead he lowers his head
and sucks one of Lucius' nipples. The little hairs around it feel scratchy on
his tongue and catch in his teeth but the center knots into a bump that makes
it easier to hold between his lips. Bending his elbow, he brushes his
fingertips across Lucius' other nipple and tugs it gently until it has
stiffened like the first, then switches his mouth for his free hand and suckles
the dry nipple.
The feeling of Lucius' hand on the back of his neck distracts him momentarily.
Severus thinks that Lucius must want him to stop, but the hand does not try to
urge his head away; instead it strokes through his hair, keeping him close,
remaining when he once again switches mouth and hand on the nipples. One of
Lucius' arms stretches upward, over their heads, letting him arch, exposing his
armpit.
It takes a little while for Severus to work up the courage to move his mouth
from the nipple alongside the thick patch of hair. He fears recoiling
automatically, but the taste and scent do not offend him; rather, it is
delightful to touch Lucius so intimately, just as it was licking his arse. The
underarm seems to be quite sensitive, but then Lucius seems to be sensitive
everywhere. It had never occurred to Severus that so many parts of his body
might be receptive to pleasure.
Wriggling downward, he pushes at Lucius' hip until the man arches toward him,
giving Severus access to his still-hard prick. It looks too big to fit
comfortably in his body but Severus has thought the same thing of his own
prick, though it evidently did not cause Lucius enough pain to mar his
erection. It has grown easier to take more of Lucius into his mouth, and he
lets him glide toward his throat, bobbing his head and sucking until Lucius
comes.
"As I'm sure I've told you before, what you lack in experience you make up for
in enthusiasm," the man tells him with a humming, satisfied sigh when Severus
has released his prick and moved up beside him. "Come here." Warm arms wrap
around him and a kiss falls onto his forehead. "I knew I'd have a nicer holiday
if I invited you."
There are no words with which Severus can explain what this holiday means to
him -- it would require that he reveal too much about his home and family,
things he cannot confess to Lucius. "Thank you," he says humbly, thickly, and
pretends to be exhausted from sex fucking making love, sliding his face against
Lucius' neck.
"I know I'm depriving you of being at home but I promise to make it worthwhile.
Will your parents spare you through the turn of the year?" Severus thinks that
he will tell his parents any lie necessary to make this happen; he nods, and
feels Lucius purr a little. "Good. I was thinking that we could celebrate."
***** End and Beginning *****
It is dawn on the last day of the old year. There are still wizards in the
world who follow the ancient ways and count from the Day of the Dead, but even
among the old families, most celebrate the turn of the calendar a week after
Christmas with music and costumed revels. Severus has never been to a proper
New Year celebration and is listening eagerly to Lucius' descriptions.
"It's up to you, then, what we do this afternoon," says Lucius, stretching
across his pillow to reach a square of cheese on the tray Dobby has brought for
them. He and Severus have spent the morning in bed, though they have hardly
been inactive, and Severus' thighs still feel sore from straining to thrust up
into Lucius who had been suspended from the canopy over him. "The sword dancing
in Amesbury is quite a spectacle, but I think you'd be more impressed by the
Mummers. Some of them," he smiles wickedly, "sacrifice a real victim and bring
him back from the dead with dark magic."
"That's not possible," retorts Severus, swallowing a mouthful of porridge.
There are cakes and fruit and black pudding on the tray, yet he finds an odd
delight in eating something so familiar from home for breakfast while sitting
in Lucius' bed, which still smells faintly of semen and the scented cloths
Lucius summoned to clean them off afterward. "He can't really have been dead."
"But he is. I've seen it. There are secrets about death that you won't find in
the books at Hogwarts, you know. It's said that Nicolas Flamel succeeded in
creating the Elixir of Life, and he's a friend of the Headmaster's -- don't you
think there's a reason Dumbledore's still so overbearing at his age? But he's
not sharing the secret of immortality."
Lucius sounds surprisingly vehement. He is still very young, seemingly in
excellent health; he has many years before age will begin to take its toll. Or,
then again, considers Severus, perhaps Lucius has more reasons than himself to
wish to live forever, with this beautiful house and seemingly endless
possibilities before him, though Lucius will not gain dominion until his father
is no more. It is a disturbing thought, for although Severus has occasionally
wished his own father ill, he has never considered reasons for plotting his
demise. Sometimes Lucius puts frightening thoughts in his head.
"All right, then, we'll go to see the Mummers," Severus nods, putting his bowl
back on the tray and lifting a boiled egg. "Because I still think there must be
a trick to it. Draught of Living Death of something."
"We'll see." Lucius taps the egg with the tip of his wand. Instantly the shell
crumbles away, leaving Severus holding a damp, limp, dead chick in his hands.
He gasps and tosses it away, but even as it is flung across the bed, Lucius
points his wand and calls, "Glisco vividus!" A fuzzy yellow chick lands on the
mattress, flapping its miniscule wings and appearing startled, though no more
so than Severus, who tries to keep his horror from showing on his face. Lucius
peers at him and says, "Don't look like that. That was a trick. The elves will
take it to the hatchery and soon it will be crowing."
It was not a funny trick, thinks Severus as he dresses. He has no particular
fondness for fluffy animals, but apart from the chick, it was not a nice thing
to do to him. Perhaps Lucius meant it as a warning, for if holding a dead
chicken disgusted him, how will he react to the sight of a dead human body,
even if it is a trick? He does not want to show weakness -- not in front of
Lucius and certainly not where there might be other witnesses.
Because Severus cannot Apparate, Lucius has the carriage brought out and, at
Severus' request, takes the reins himself with Severus beside him in the front.
The weather is less frigid than usual for the last of December and the ride
through the Wiltshire countryside is exhilarating, with Severus sitting warm
and content beneath Lucius' old cloak while Lucius describes the Mumming
tradition.
"It's symbolic, you understand. The Earth is asleep in the dead of winter, and
the miraculous cure represents the recovery in the coming spring. Over the
years Mummery has become a combination of panto and bawdy show -- King George
and the Dragon crossed with Father Christmas and a naughty skit with a knight
and a harem." One of the horses tosses its head and Lucius tugs on the reins.
"Oh, and there's a dead horse in it, something about beating a dead horse. In
truly awful productions it's two men dressed up as the horse's legs with a
horse's skull at the head, but...well, you'll see."
They pull up in front of an inn whose fireplaces can be scented long before the
building comes into sight. Attentive grooms lead away Lucius' horses while a
groveling innkeeper leads them inside and hands them cups of steaming wassail
from a bowl hung over the burning remains of a Christmas tree. Though the inn
is packed with people, they are led to seats near the cleared center where two
men hack and swing at one another with swords.
"Beelzebub," murmurs Lucius, pointing. "Though he looks more like a satyr, he
always wins." Sure enough, Beelzebub mimes slaying men dressed as soldiers,
then -- to laughter and applause -- kisses barmaids and steals swigs from the
tankards of spectators. When all the blue-frocked soldiers lie on the floor,
there is another round of loud clapping and foot-stomping as food is brought
out to the tables. A "dead" man's chest heaves when a pretty girl steps over
him to hand a drink to a man at a seat in the corner.
"Christmas now or Christmas not,
I hope Father Christmas will never be forgot.
Roast beef, plum pudding, and mince pie,
Who likes them better than you and I?"
chants an old man dressed as a cross between a Muggle Santa Claus and a Morris
Jack-in-the-Green. While the audience dines on greasy meat, a hunchbacked
character named Saucy Jack comes around begging, claiming to need money for his
family hidden in the hump upon his back. A grown girl dressed as a little boy
pretends to pick the pockets of patrons while their hands are busy with the
meal; she lets out loud squeals when they catch her and spank her bottom.
Severus wonders whether Lucius was teasing after all about the use of Dark Arts
to raise the dead. The atmosphere in this inn is lewdly festive, and none of
the revelers bother to use so much as a spell to refill their drinks when their
elbows knock the tankards to the floor. Lucius applauds with a polite
tolerance, making Severus doubt whether he really likes this loutish
entertainment or only wishes to indulge the younger man in something he might
enjoy. In truth Severus finds the inn too loud, the food too heavy, the air too
full of smoke, and the strong wassail makes his head swim. He would be happy to
return to the carriage and ride back pressed against Lucius' side.
"Here," whispers Lucius, his entire demeanor changing to enthusiastic glee. The
entire room goes quiet. A man dressed in royal velvets and a crown has entered,
floating above the floor; he recites a poem announcing that he is King William,
and is joined by a large, dark man in a cloak who identifies himself "from
Turkey lands" as an enemy of William the King. Once they have leapt from their
invisible horses, their combat begins much like the previous performances, with
much waving of the swords in the air, parrying and falling into the laps of
screeching girls. Every so often the King makes a speech, declaring that he
fights for England, once slew a dragon and won a Queen's daughter, at which the
soldiers "slain" by Beelzebub all hail him.
And then it happens: King William raises his sword and runs the Turk through.
The audience lets out a collective gasp as the sword hangs suspended, handle
against the Turk's chest, blade sticking from his back. Lucius sits up
straight, watching intently. Tugging out the weapon, King William makes a show
of wiping it off on the Turk's cloak while the dark man sways, letting out a
choked gurgle, but before he can fall the King catches him again on the blade,
which makes a crunching noise as it slices through bone.
The audience, which has fallen into a hush, begins to bang on the tables, stomp
feet and chant; some are reciting "More," some "Kill," while some seem to be
speaking in a language that Severus has never heard before. With an inhuman
grin, the King withdraws the sword and stabs the Turk again and again, creating
fountains of blood from his body, slicing across his face and body once he has
him down. Soon an enormous red stain covers the floor, yet blood no longer
spurts from the Turk's wounds with every beat of his heart. The dusky face has
become ashen; the dark eyes have opened wide, unblinking.
Another swing of the blade sends droplets spattering everyone nearby, including
both Lucius, whose high forehead and shining hair become streaked with red, and
Severus, who can feel the warm liquid burning his face. His stomach heaves as
he breathes in the stench of the hot, smoky room filled with ale and carnage.
For an awful moment he thinks that he is going to be sick. As he sways in his
seat, Lucius puts a steadying hand on his shoulder and orders, "Watch."
King William has raised his sword high in the air. He recites, "Is there a
doctor to be found/To cure this man from bleeding on this cold ground?"
Astonishingly, raucous laughter greets this query. In comes a man who has not
appeared before in the play, wearing a black hat and carrying a black bag, with
an aura of power surrounding him. Once again the crowd goes quiet.
"Here comes I the learned Doctor
Lately come from Spain.
I can cure the big-bellied man
And fetch the dead to life again."
These words are spoken in an almost bored voice, as if the doctor does not wish
to go through the motions of performing the Mummery. Stepping past the King, he
draws a wand and begins to trace over the wounds in the Turk's body, chanting
an incantation that Severus has never heard before. The words are crooned,
almost sung, and as the wand moves over the Turk's body, the great gaping holes
begin to close and knit. No other sounds can be heard in the room -- no
tankards are lifted, no chairs scraped, in fact all of the watchers might be
holding their breath.
In the silence, the doctor whispers a word. Severus cannot hear what it is, but
beside him he feels Lucius strain forward, as well as every other person in the
room. There is a muted, terrible gurgling noise: the corpse has drawn a breath.
Severus sees the Turk's eyelids flutter, his lips close and open again. King
William kneels in the circle of blood behind the dark form and helps the Turk
to sit up. The dead man looks around with an expression of dawning horror,
coughing pink spittle from the corners of his mouth. Then everything is
obscured in the racket as the audience rises, applauding and stomping and
throwing coins at the feet of the wizard-doctor.
Lucius hauls Severus to his feet, too, but the effort of trying to balance
upright is too much for his stomach. Shoving through the cheering crowd, he
races toward the door and fresh air, though he reaches it too late to keep from
being sick in the remnants of snowfall around the side of the building. Inside
the revelers have begun to sing a wassailing song and there are sounds of mugs
and tankards being knocked together. Severus is grateful that in the minutes it
takes Lucius to find him, he has time to kick snow over the evidence of his
weakness and to scrub his face and clean his mouth with the numbingly cold
flakes.
"I must have drunk too much," he explains apologetically. He cannot look at
Lucius, who is examining him with a cool, assessing gaze. "Go back inside, I'll
be there in a minute..."
"That was the end," Lucius tells him. "They'll be drinking and singing half the
night, but the Mummery is finished. I've already sent for the carriage."
Nodding, Severus leans back against the stones. He can no longer pretend to be
able to stand straight no matter what Lucius might think of him. "Are you all
right?"
"I'm fine," Severus replies much too forcefully. "I told you, it was the drink,
and the smoke..."
"If you think you're going to be sick again, we can travel back by floo and I
can pay someone to bring the carriage tomorrow."
"I'm fine." Through sheer force of will Severus pushes himself away from the
side of the inn, hoping urgently that the carriage will arrive quickly. It does
-- most of the revelers have indeed remained inside, where they are now singing
the bawdy later verses of "Greensleeves."
But some of the Mummers have come out the back door of the inn, where they are
counting their coins. Beside them is a great skeletal creature, a horse of
sorts with wings and bones where its flesh should be. "What..." Severus croaks,
stumbling back against Lucius, who follows his gaze with a puzzled expression
as Severus whirls and strides away. He thinks that if he sees either the doctor
or the Turk, he may run all the way back to Spinner's End.
"Here's the carriage." Lucius is beside him again, hand on his elbow. "Get
inside. I'm going to hire a coachman to drive us back." Severus' foot slips as
he attempts to climb into the carriage, but a silent strengthening spell seems
to help, and on his second attempt he propels himself onto the seat, resting
with his eyes closed until Lucius too enters and the horses begin to move.
They ride in silence for several minutes, with Lucius stealing glances at
Severus, who is unwilling to speak until he is certain that clean air and
distance have revitalized him. Finally he takes a deep breath, pulling his
cloak tighter around his shoulders.
"How can they do that?"
"It's a spell," says Lucius patiently. "I think it likely that the Turk was
given a potion beforehand, to numb his..."
"I know that. I know it was a spell." Severus' voice comes out childish and
sullen but he can't help himself. "I mean, how can they do that. It has to be
illegal. Doesn't the Ministry of Magic know..."
An ugly laugh issues from Lucius' throat. "The Ministry of Magic! Do you think
they have the ability to investigate every misuse of magic at this time of
year, with representatives at every tavern? How long do you imagine the
Minister could remain in power if he tried to stop the winter sacrifice or the
sacred marriage in the spring? Most of these traditions are older than the
Ministry itself."
"But I thought the Statute of Secrecy..."
"Just because the International Confederation of Warlocks surrendered to the
Muggles, it doesn't mean every witch and wizard is content to cower. Haven't
you ever tested out a spell at home despite the Decree for the Reasonable
Restriction of Underage Sorcery? Do you think that spell I used on the egg this
morning is Ministry-approved?"
Severus does not reply. As the horses carry them toward the mansion with its
collection of dark secrets, he thinks that surely there is a difference between
shooting down flies in his bedroom and stabbing a man to death before an
audience. They continue without speaking until they have nearly reached the
Malfoy home, when Lucius asks, in a less belligerent voice, "Why did it bother
you so much?"
"I don't know." This is an honest answer, though Severus does know, yet does
not say, that Lucius' fascination with death troubles him almost as much as the
bloody murder. "That inn was filthy and vulgar," he bursts out instead. "It
reminds me of my father. Why would someone like you want to be seen someplace
like that?"
"It reminds you of your father?" Severus bites his lip, staring out at the
bleak sky and wishing he knew a spell to take the words back. The horses clop
at a leisurely pace through the gate as he thinks that he has probably ruined
the happiest week of his life by not being able to keep his mouth shut. When
they come to a halt and he stumbles from the carriage, the whinnying horses
make him flinch. He slouches unhappily toward the door, despising himself.
"Severus." Lucius is hurrying to catch up after paying the coachman, pulling
off his gloves, looking concerned. "I should have realized...you couldn't see
the thestrals in the show, could you? You didn't react when the King rode in."
And now Lucius actually looks remorseful. "It was foolish to take you there.
But come inside. You must want something to eat or at least some tea."
While they wait for the elves to bring the steaming mugs, Lucius natters on
about the tradition of rebirthing the Earth from the heart of winter by way of
a sacrifice. It is clear that he is fascinated by the cycle -- the possibility
of reincarnation, or better yet, of finding a way to escape death altogether.
Why would Lucius be so concerned about dying? "Does it scare you?" Severus
bursts out.
"Killing?"
"Dying." Lucius flattens his lips and Severus realizes that, without meaning
to, he has won back some of the respect he feared he had lost. "I imagine that
killing is easy by comparison. But to try to stop death...wouldn't you have to
sacrifice something equally huge?"
The question earns him an approving nod, and then Dobby arrives with the food.
Though he had not thought he would be hungry, Severus discovers that the long
ride back and Lucius' concern have revived his appetite. He eats his soup, some
pie and a little pudding. Later he finishes the Christmas chocolates while they
sit in front of a fireplace, where Lucius reads aloud from an ancient book of
Cabala about the process through which, as a man transforms a half-pound of
mercury into first silver, then pure gold, he might accomplish the same
conversion in his soul to produce an immortal, eternal spirit.
With a sigh Lucius marks the page and sets the book down, leaning his chin on
Severus' shoulder and staring into the flames. "I'm afraid I didn't give you a
particularly happy memory to end the year," he says. "Tomorrow there will be
parades and street fairs and people jumping naked into the river to brave the
cold. But I'd like to do something cheerful tonight. What would you like?
Fireworks? Or shall I give you a set of silver runes and we can tell each
other's fortunes?"
Severus thinks that he might like to have a set of silver runes as a souvenir,
but there is something he wants much more, before this year can end. "I want
something you told me I could have when I was ready," he says. "I am ready. I
want you to take me to bed...I want you to fuck me."
Lucius sits back to look at him before nodding, smiling a little nostalgically,
like an adult with someone he has known since childhood but has realized is a
child no longer. "I know you're ready," he agrees. "But, Severus, I know you've
had a trying day and the first time is not always pleasant. Even if you want
it, it can be uncomfortable and frightening..."
"Were you scared?" Severus interrupts.
"Not exactly," says Lucius with a soft laugh, though he looks vaguely abashed.
"I'd swallowed half a bottle of whiskey laced with Praepotentis potion. I want
to make sure this is what you want your last memory of the year to be -- it's
not one you're likely to forget very quickly."
"I won't want to forget," insists Severus. "I don't want to forget this
afternoon. I don't want to forget anything I know now, and I want to know this
before we're back at school and it would have to be in a hurry with silencing
charms and..." He very nearly tells Lucius that he does not want to sleep in
his own bed, afterward, but to stay with Lucius and wake up for more.
A slow grin creeps across Lucius' face, but it is nothing like the wistful
expression from before; the look is eager and hungry and wicked. "If you're
sure," he says, "then go take a bath, and put on the robe I'm going to have
brought to you, and come to my room in an hour." He stands, winks at Severus
and walks out of the parlor, calling behind him, "One hour. Don't be late," as
Severus sits with his heart beginning to race.
The tub in the guest bathroom is nowhere near as impressive as the one in the
prefects' bathroom at Hogwarts but it is more than twice as big as the one in
the bathroom Severus must share at home with his parents. There are no magical
taps, but there are a dozen vials of scented salts and bubbling potions along
with curved pipes to provide underwater jets. Though Severus had washed and
removed his stained clothing before he and Lucius ate, he is startled to find
when he looks in the mirror that there are still spots of blood in his hair. He
scrubs it under the spigot before filling the tub and pouring in drops of
clove-scented oil that erase the stench of smoky grease clinging to his skin.
His prick has been half-hard since Lucius instructed him to come to his room,
but he avoids touching it, afraid of bringing himself off in his hand just
imagining what is to come. He wonders whether Lucius will prepare him and fuck
him right away or whether he will tease him first, until Severus is so anxious
and so desperate to be touched that he might say something he shouldn't.
Despite how relaxing it is to lie in the bath after the stressful afternoon, he
does not want to become too aroused or too sleepy, so he gets up and rinses off
after only a few minutes, standing beneath a cool shower as he thoroughly
washes his underarms and groin.
The robe that Lucius has sent is pale green silk which clings to and caresses
Severus' body, making his prick swell anew and tenting around the prominent
bulge. He tries to read the Dark Arts books that Lucius gave him for Christmas
but after a few minutes he finds he cannot concentrate. Instead he lies back on
the bed, working to clear his thoughts. He has wanted to feel Lucius inside him
since he first saw Lucius touching himself in the prefect's bathroom not so
many weeks ago, though it feels like something that happened to him in a far-
distant childhood. Any lingering naivete has been stripped away by the Mummers.
Now he wonders whether he should be sorry, but with the initial shock fading,
he feels stronger than before. He doubts his Gryffindor tormentors have ever
witnessed such a thing. Lucius is right that he has tried spells he had no
business to do, where he was terrified of his mother finding out, let alone the
Ministry of Magic, although he was never caught and never got in trouble. He
can do things -- learn things -- that will make him more powerful than his
enemies, with Lucius initiating him into these mysteries.
Rising, he straightens his hair and walks to Lucius' bedroom through the quiet
hallways. When he raises his hand to knock, the door opens for him. The room is
lit entirely by candles that float near the ceiling like the ones in the Great
Hall at Hogwarts, which cast strange, seductive shadows over Lucius' face as he
comes forward to lead Severus to the bed.
"This looks good on you," says Lucius, tugging the robe open and letting it
fall. He then does the same with his own darker robe, leaving them on the rug
as he sits on the side of the bed and pulls Severus between his thighs. Their
pricks are erect and pointing at one another as if declaring their own
intentions. Wrapping his hands around Severus' neck, Lucius pulls him down for
a kiss, letting Severus move close enough to put his own hands in Lucius' hair
which is softer and silkier than the robe.
"You smell so clean," murmurs Lucius. "And I feel very dirty for wanting to put
you on all fours, and put my tongue inside you, and then my cock, and fill up
your arse." Groaning, Severus trembles as Lucius pulls him in for another,
harder kiss, gripping the hair much less gently. "Listen. The first time, it's
not unusual to have a moment where you're certain you're going to rip in two
and to say 'Stop' when you don't actually want to stop everything. So if you
really want me to stop, why don't you say 'Cease,' but if you want me to stay
still for just a moment, then you can say 'Stop.' You'll remember that?"
Whenever Lucius talks to him like this, instructing him while they are doing
something intimate, it makes Severus blush, yet he likes it; he feels as if he
is being given more control, and also as if Lucius cares about him. When he
nods, Lucius adds, "There are other things we can try later where you may want
to pick your own words, but let's keep it simple for now." Rocking back, Lucius
pulls Severus onto the bed with him, depositing him on the mattress. "Now let's
get started," he says with glee, reaching toward the table where the jar of
potion sits beside the sleeping dragons on the chessboard.
As he had suggested he would, Lucius begins by using his tongue, though he does
not immediately put it in Severus' arse; instead he kisses and nibbles his neck
and collarbone, then puts Severus' arms above his head to lick his underarms
and suck his nipples. The eager tongue stroking his armpit is like nothing
Severus has ever imagined, and when Lucius bites down gently on the nub he has
teased into a firm bump, he thinks it is possible that he could come just from
that.
"Please," he hears himself begging when Lucius scrapes his teeth along the
inside of his arm, and "Oh please fuck please," as Lucius' tongue teases along
his bottom rib. He knows that he is clean, for he has just spent nearly an hour
in the bath, but this indeed feels deliciously dirty to him, all the more so
because he knows where it is leading.
"On your belly then," orders Lucius with the same barely suppressed delight,
helping Severus to roll and rise onto his knees. Lucius' thumb presses and
circles at the back of Severus' balls, stimulating just beneath the hole which
twitches and flexes, then the thumb is replaced by Lucius' tongue and Severus
hears his own voice again, begging and very nearly sobbing for more. "You like
being penetrated, don't you," Lucius asks, breath warm against Severus' bottom
as his thumb nudges the pucker open wider. "Aren't you glad we waited? Won't it
mean so much more this way?"
Before Severus can answer the mouth descends again, thrusting the tongue in
ruthlessly while the thumb slides down over Severus' balls and up along his
prick. He knows he could come this way so easily, and begs again, "Please, oh
fuck, oh please Lucius, fuck me please..."
He feels Lucius shift his weight, and a moment later he feels Lucius' fingers
moving against him, cooler and more deliberate, covered with slippery potion.
"I can't wait to do this with my cock," Lucius tells Severus as he slides a
finger in steadily, one knuckle, two, and it feels so much dirtier when Lucius
does it than when he's tried it by himself, determined and relentless. With a
loud groan Severus clutches at the bedcovers beneath him as Lucius begins to
move the finger in and out. "I'm going to fuck you just like this, and you're
going to clench up just like that..."
The fingertip presses down and Severus cries out, then it withdraws and pushes
back, joined by another finger, which stretches the opening somewhat
uncomfortably but increases the naughty, dirty sense of willful indiscretion.
Lucius continues to push his fingers in and out, asking Severus whether he
likes it while Severus continues to wail and beg; then he withdraws them,
dropping a kiss onto Severus' shoulder.
"Why don't you help me prepare myself," he suggests, pushing the potion jar
toward Severus' hands. As much as he wants to be fucked, it is a relief to be
off his knees for a minute and delicious to spread the oily cream on the hot,
hard cock that throbs in his hand like a living creature with its own desires.
Severus drops a kiss to the head before he turns, getting back on his hands and
knees, sensing that Lucius will appreciate this gesture of acceptance, and
indeed there is triumph mixed with the hunger in Lucius' eyes.
Oh, but Lucius is right that for a moment Severus believes that he will split
in two. The prick is so much bigger than two fingers, pressing relentlessly
past the ring of muscle, shoving inside with a firmer thrust than Severus had
dared use the first time with Lucius. Although he knows it is not possible that
he could injure any vital organs, fear overwhelms his desire for a moment and
he gasps, "Stop..."
Lucius halts without withdrawing, stroking a hand over his lower back. "Don't
tense, it makes it worse," he murmurs soothingly. "Is it very painful or just
very strange?"
"Oh -- strange," manages Severus. Indeed, the pain has not grown worse since
Lucius pushed the head inside and it seems to be lessening, but the sense that
he is being torn open remains. What if he can't walk properly afterwards, or he
can't control his bowels? But these are ridiculous fears -- he has, after all,
done this to Lucius -- and he forces them away, trying to think instead of what
Lucius must be feeling. That velvet heat around the head of his cock...
Without realizing that he is doing so, Severus relaxes enough that Lucius can
ease in deeper, letting out a growl of pleasure as he does so. The sound seems
to vibrate Severus' prick from the inside, making it twitch, and as quickly as
that, the pain becomes bearable, even welcome: he is letting Lucius fuck him.
Cautiously Severus pushes back, taking Lucius all the way inside, and he feels
Lucius lean forward to wrap a hand around his prick. "Better?" Lucius asks.
"Please..." moans Severus, and Lucius takes over, beginning to thrust,
beginning to stroke him, not too hard or fast at first but growing increasingly
frenzied as Severus calls out in mingled pain and pleasure, still feeling
bruised but certain that it is worth it. He can feel Lucius thicken inside him
just before he comes, gripping Severus' hip and convulsing against him. When
Lucius has finished, his prick is no longer so large and uncomfortable inside
but more like a reminder of the act they are performing. He strokes Severus
until the bed is spattered beneath them, telling Severus how good he feels, how
much Lucius had wanted to be the first to come in his arse, and now it is
Severus' turn to come.
They are lying together, skin sticking together where they touch, when the old
year dies and the next begins. "Happy New Year," Lucius tells him softly,
turning his head in the direction of the sound and light of fireworks through
the curtains. "Are you happy?"
Severus knows that it is the wrong holiday for sacred sex and that most would
consider what they have just done to be a travesty of the great mysteries
rather than a celebration. Yet the darkness of the afternoon has vanished and
he feels filled with the coming light of spring. Even though Lucius has not put
it into words, Severus is certain that he, too, thinks this was more than just
a fuck. In some way he had considered Severus' innocence a gift that will give
him power in a way it never could have if he had taken it carelessly.
He knows I love him, guesses Severus. He wants it...he wants me. Joy explodes
in him like the fireworks out in the night and his arms tighten around Lucius,
who hugs him back.
"Yes," Severus nods. "I am happy." And for the first time in his life, looking
forward into the new year, he believes it may continue.
***** Sacrifices *****
Lucius is still asleep when Severus wakes with the first dawn of the new year,
with the sheets soft around his body and the bed cozy from the heat of their
bodies. The room smells like Lucius' hair and the sweet herbs the elves use
when they wash the bedcovers. Gingerly, Severus touches himself, for the place
where Lucius entered him feels tender if not exactly painful, and he needs this
moment to become acquainted with his body again before Lucius wakes.
He had thought that perhaps, afterward, his body would no longer feel like his
own and had suspected that he would not like that feeling, but it is the
opposite. For the first time since he became aware that this skinny, pale form
was his to present to the world, he feels a certain pride in it. Certainly
there are potions he could use to make the faint ache disappear, but he does
not want it to. He wants the strange feeling to continue, to remind him of what
he and Lucius did and how it has changed him.
The blankets have slid partially down Lucius' body in the warm room, revealing
his firm, nearly hairless chest. Looking at the man, it is clear to Severus
that he is never going to desire any woman in the same way and he can see now
that in the past he was always more aware of male beauty -- not just obvious
examples like some of the paintings at Hogwarts but people he has met, like
that handsome Quidditch star Patrick Macaulay and even the odious Sirius Black.
Severus knows that he will never wish to marry, not even to have a child whose
blood would be stronger than his own. He knows too that this may be the last
day -- possibly ever -- when he will have Lucius all to himself, and he
determines to revel in every moment of what he has rather than regret what
cannot be.
"Involito," he whispers. He is not holding his wand, but the enchantment on the
bed responds to voice alone, and the curtains begin to sway, stroking long
loose panels of fabric over Lucius' chest and into his hair. With a soft groan
Lucius stretches, still not fully conscious, reacting to the stimulation as if
it is a dream. Severus' fingers skim across Lucius' chest as he leans over the
passive form, rests his cheek against the collarbone and murmurs, "Redimio."
The cords tighten and move up along Lucius' arms and legs until they have
reached his wrists and ankles, tugging his body straight. "Mmm," he grunts as
the sensation draws him toward wakefulness. "Severus, what..." But the question
is answered when Severus' mouth latches on to a nipple and begins to suck,
fingers teasing its pair, driving coherent words from Lucius who responds with
a moan.
Severus has never before had the courage to tie Lucius up without permission
and worship his prone body. He had thought that Lucius might be angry with him
and is thrilled to find Lucius surrendering completely, shuddering and groaning
his pleasure without making demands. The strong torso arches and squirms when
Severus puts his face in Lucius' armpit, tasting the soft skin below the hair
and raising goosebumps along his side. Then Lucius bucks helplessly as Severus
licks inside his thighs and all around his balls without ever touching the
stiff, straining prick.
He had thought of taking Lucius inside himself again, putting slippery potion
all over that rigid flesh and sliding himself down on it, but he thinks that he
may yet be too sore for that and doesn't want to start something he won't be
able to finish. Instead he frees Lucius' ankles from the ties that have pulled
them toward the lower corners of the mattress, fastening them instead to the
velvet drapes hanging from the canopy. He has never seen Lucius so utterly
yielding and finds it painfully exciting, so much so that he abandons his plan
to put his tongue in Lucius and focuses on getting inside him as quickly as
possible. Lucius is so relaxed that Severus' fingers encounter no resistance
when they spread him wide and slick the warm channel. Giving his own prick a
cursory coating as well, Severus leans forward and thrusts more quickly and
easily than he has dared in the past.
"Oh, yes, fuck me," Lucius groans in a voice Severus has never heard before. Is
this ordering or begging? He pulls back partway, presses in deep and watches
Lucius' head thrash. "Yes! Fuck me hard!" The bed is working with him, tugging
up on the material binding Lucius' arms and legs and then giving it momentary
slack which pulls Lucius' body up against Severus and then lets it sag.
They are looking into one another's eyes, where Severus thinks that he can
actually see Lucius' desire, and he answers it with a passion he cannot
disguise, thrusting uncontrollably. The room seems to swim with the connection
like a chant in his rhythm, love you love you love you love until they are both
calling out, coming nearly in perfect unison, eyes finally closing against the
surfeit.
The draperies binding Lucius slowly release him, laying him flat on the bed.
Severus slides on top of him, resting his head on Lucius' chest, ecstatic and
overwhelmed. It is several minutes before he turns his face up to look at
Lucius.
The older man looks pensive -- not chagrined exactly, but concerned. Severus
feels his stomach tighten as he wonders whether, despite Lucius' obvious
pleasure in the act, he is sorry that he let Severus go so far.
"I assume that you know about Occlumency?"
"Yes," says Severus, slightly indignant. His mother had taught him the
rudiments of blocking unwanted intruders into his thoughts before he left for
Hogwarts, telling him that there would be more powerful wizards from stronger
families who might try to manipulate him and it would serve him well to be able
to protect himself.
"Do you realize," asks Lucius softly, "that a few minutes ago, your mind was
completely open? I could see what you were thinking. I knew what you were going
to do before you did it."
"I thought you liked it," Severus replies in a wounded voice.
He feels Lucius' hands on his shoulders, rolling him to the side and tugging
him up until once again they are face to face. Lucius' expression is somber
with just a trace of worry, though he squeezes Severus' arm reassuringly. "I
did like it. But it's dangerous for you to be so open with your thoughts.
Dangerous for both of us, do you understand?"
Blushing, Severus drops his eyes. "I only -- I thought you knew." Lucius'
fingers tighten on his arm again and he glances back up, comforted for a moment
to find Lucius looking directly at him, but then something strange happens: the
room begins to swim again, and Severus finds memories surfacing in his mind
that he has not tried to summon -- some not unpleasant, like his mother
teaching him as an eager, nervous little boy to play Exploding Snap, and some
quite grim, like hiding on his bed while outside his bedroom his father shouted
at his mother and objects went crashing to the floor...
"There, do you see how easily I did that?" inquires Lucius, and Severus
understands that everything that just went through his own mind appeared to
Lucius as well. "And I'm not a particularly brilliant Legilimens. Severus,
we'll be back at Hogwarts soon. You're going to need to keep your thoughts
protected or you'll reveal your weaknesses to the people you most need to
convince of your strength. Do you understand?"
The words sting, yet Severus nods. He does understand -- it is not only his own
reputation but Lucius' position that he could place at risk, and it is only
Lucius' stature at Hogwarts and as a Malfoy that has allowed them to be
together without suspicion in the first place. Still, it is hard to match up
this coldly rational Lucius with the one who not ten minutes earlier lay on his
back with his legs in the air, begging to be fucked.
Still holding his eyes, Severus concentrates, and suddenly images are crowding
his mind, of a little boy holding the key to the secret dungeon chamber, of a
tall blond man slowly pulling a wand from a sleeping woman's hand while the
little boy watches from behind a curtain...
A heavy smack against the mattress startles Severus back to the present. The
thick leather curtain binding is slapping around and between himself and
Lucius; he jerks back with a gasp. "How did you do that?" Lucius demands, less
angry than incredulous, pushing the binding aside. "Right into my thoughts -
- so quickly I didn't even realize what you were doing -- "
"Sorry," says Severus, though he isn't, really; knowing Lucius, this unexpected
skill may earn him respect rather than fury. "I didn't mean to. But I'm not so
weak that I can't defend myself."
"I never doubted that you could." Yet Lucius nods as if something has been
proven to him, and, indeed, he looks somewhat impressed. "I don't invite every
boy who follows me around to my home, you know. I picked you carefully."
"And I'm not going to disappoint you," mutters Severus a little sullenly,
though his mind is racing once again. Clearly Lucius is making certain of his
security. And, perhaps, he is a bit embarrassed about how completely he has
yielded, not in erotic surrender which Lucius considers a matter of pleasure
rather than power, but in allowing a connection to form that has enabled
Severus to slip behind his defenses even for a minute. Rather than risk having
Lucius declare that everything must end when they return to Hogwarts for their
safety, Severus adds, "I'm not like this with other people. It's only because I
lo--"
Lucius' finger is on his lips before he can complete the sentence, pressing
down firmly in the gesture for silence. His head is shaking. "Don't say that
out loud," he says quietly. "Do you understand what you give up by saying those
words?"
"But I'm saying them to you," argues Severus, genuinely puzzled. "Dumbledore
says that -- that -- is the greatest power in the world, stronger than death."
"Dumbledore may have been a great wizard once, but that has always been his
weakness," Lucius replies. "Tell me, what have you observed? Has the love
between your parents made them stronger?" Severus makes a face. He knows that
his mother loves him, and in some way this protects him from the worst of his
father's wrath...yet at the same time, loving him has made his mother weak, for
his father knows that threatening Severus will force her to bend in ways that
she would not otherwise.
And Severus cannot imagine how his mother ever could have loved his father,
though from what he has seen of the Malfoy household, there does not appear to
be any great love between Lucius' pureblood parents either -- nor between
parent and child. "Aren't you going to love your wife, then?" he asks Lucius.
"My choice will be somewhat limited." Lucius frowns. "There aren't many
pureblood witches of an appropriate age from good families. I hope I like her -
- I would not want to live with someone who made things unpleasant. I don't
think my parents like each other very much; they only travel together to avoid
gossip. But haven't you seen the idiocy of people who think they are marrying
for love? A wizard decides to marry a Muggle because he likes her laugh or a
witch decides to marry someone of weaker blood because she thinks he's
handsome, and twenty years later they've produced disgraceful children, they're
shunned from wizarding society...it's a disgrace."
Part of Severus is elated to know that Lucius does not particularly expect to
fall in love with the woman he will marry, yet he finds it disturbing that
Lucius does not seem to believe that love can happen spontaneously and
unexpectedly and change everything, just as happened to Severus. Defiantly he
announces, "I don't think that weakens me. I've learned things. I know things
now. I'm even a better Slytherin -- I have ambitions."
"You have changed," Lucius agrees, smiling a little. "Though you were always
demanding. And argumentative. But are you telling me that if I said that has
become too dangerous and must stop here, you would say your farewells and go on
your way?"
Severus thinks, for a moment, that Lucius used a nonverbal spell on him as he
spoke. His chest constricts, his throat burns; for a moment he feels as sick as
he did watching the bloody death in the Mummery. "Don't," he says quickly, and
then he cannot speak. If he apologizes or pleads, he will be proving Lucius'
point that he is weak, and if he continues to insist on his feelings, he will
demonstrate that it may be too dangerous...he could lose Lucius either way.
The idea is as intolerable as ever, and the misery of knowing that things must
return to where they were -- and that even if they do not, Lucius will still be
gone forever in the spring -- settles back over him.
A finger beneath his chin tilts his face upward. "Don't look so unhappy,"
Lucius tells him. "I was proving a point: You need to be careful. You need to
protect your ambitions. When we are back at Hogwarts, you can't return to
lurking outside my classrooms. You need to think seriously about what sort of
work you want to do when you leave school, keep your marks high in the
important subjects, stay out of trouble with the Gryffindors and trust me to
find you when I can."
Carefully Severus nods, keeping his gaze fixed on a point just past Lucius'
ear; he is afraid that if he blinks, his eyes will water. Lucius studies him
for a moment, then leans over to brush a kiss across his mouth. "You worry too
much. You need to spend more time enjoying what you have and work on obtaining
what you want." Nodding in reply, still not meeting Lucius' eyes, Severus
kisses him back. "Now let's have breakfast and we can go to the fair."
Some of the Wiltshire customs they witness as they ride through the brisk
morning make Severus shake his head incredulously. Farmers have set hawthorn
bushes afire amidst straw in their fields, believing that it will bring good
crops in the fall. In one enclosure a flat cake has been placed on one of the
horns of a cow while several people dance around, distracting the animal and
waiting to see where the cake will fall.
"Sinister," says Lucius with satisfaction in his voice, elbowing Severus. "If
you knocked at any of their doors, they would welcome you -- the first-footer
of the year must be young, male, dark-haired and if at all possible carrying
money or at least a lump of coal." He presses a coin into Severus' gloved hand,
not a Galleon but an ancient gold piece with a worn face on it. "There, for
luck. Shall I take you to the Giants Dance? Or to see the chalk horses? Or
would you like to ice skate?"
It does not surprise Severus to learn that Lucius can skate -- he cannot, of
course, or at least he is lucky simply to keep his footing, whereas he has no
doubt that Lucius moves swiftly and elegantly across the ice. He would not like
for Lucius to see his clumsiness, yet he wants to choose something that Lucius
will enjoy -- something that will make Lucius want to have him back. "Can we
visit one of the barrows?" he asks.
Lucius beams at him. "Of course we can," he replies and turns the carriage
toward a town at the center of an ancient stone circle revered by Wizards and
Muggles alike. The most prominent of the barrows is slightly more than a mile
to the south of the village on a low ridge running east and west, forming part
of the great serpent whose head is the sanctuary on Overton Hill. Massive
upright stones block the forecourt behind the false entrance built to keep
intruders out. Although Muggles believe that the massive tomb was sealed after
the last burial, they have not discovered all the entrances into the ancient
grave.
Though Severus has heard tales of people whose skin prickles with chills from
the haunted barrow, it is warmer inside than standing in the cold January air.
Behind the great sarsens that mark the entrance to the chambers beneath the
ground, the temperature remains steady even when the low howling of the wind
can be heard beyond.
"Can you feel the power in this place?" asks Lucius in a low, respectful voice.
"It has known magic...the mystery of death."
"It's just an old tomb," counters Severus somewhat crossly, looking at the
evidence of looting in the scraped stones. "They built monuments to the dead
because they feared death. Then later generations stole the treasures."
"Or perhaps they understood the secrets of death, and respected it, and took
talismans to ward against it." There is a gleam in Lucius' eyes that can be
seen even in the dim chamber. "The people buried in many of these barrows were
not chosen accidentally. There were sacrifices here."
"And the people who built them are long forgotten anyway, even by their
descendants." The sound of Severus' voice echoes eerily from the stones as he
passes into the darker, deeper chamber. "Everyone's been trying to figure out
ways around death for as long as anyone's been alive. If there was some magical
way to do it, don't you think someone would have figured it out by now?"
"That's difficult to say, really. For as long as there have been Muggles, they
have seen Wizards as a threat -- the cause of their sufferings rather than the
ones who might hold the secret to ending all suffering." Lucius' tone drips
disgust. "Do you know that the witches of Didmarton were buried upright at Nan
Tow's Tump, the round barrow?"
"And there are dead giants in the barrows in Somerset," replies Severus,
recalling the story from his childhood. He stubs his toe against one of the
stones, then rests his hand upon it, trying to feel its power. Hogwarts is
quite new compared to this barrow which is believed to be more than five
thousand years old. It comes from a time when there was no distinction between
the Muggle and magical realms.
Do the Malfoys believe that the weakness of new blood, Mudblood, is the reason
most wizards no longer live as long as Dumbledore has? Does he think that the
sacrifice of Muggles -- like the Turk in the Mummers play -- might somehow be
used to strengthen the old blood? "The ancient rites were used to serve the
land itself and the people who shared it, not any single person, not even the
most powerful lords of the ancient Houses," he reminds Lucius.
"Yet the lords did benefit. They did not go to the Earth themselves; others
were given up in their place. They took the power of those deaths and their
land grew stronger."
Lucius sounds as if he believes he might evade death by absorbing the power of
the deaths of others, like in sculptures of Asian magical figures who devour
death to conquer it. For Severus, whose interest in the Dark Arts has thus far
been limited to seeking ways to punish and silence his enemies, it is a grand
and unnerving thought, yet he does not understand its source. It is not as
though they are routinely threatened by dragons or werewolves. The eerie
enclosed dark of the barrow is beginning to affect him, and he finds himself
longing for sunlight though he knows there will be little warmth above. "I'd
like to see the town," he says, and turns away from the image of Lucius' golden
hair silhouetted against the dark stones, climbing from the underworld into the
pale afternoon light.
The bitter morning has become a blustery day, yet other people are braving the
chill to walk the stone circle and cross the fields to the great mound of
Silbury Hill just south of the town. Severus is not a little surprised to find
that he has grown hungry and the idea of a festival appeals to him now. There
are apples and mince pies to be had for a song -- indeed, small children
perform carols to earn treats -- and older girls drop egg whites into boiling
cauldrons to see if the congealing substance may form shapes like letters, said
to be the first letters of the names of the men they will marry. On the far
side of town are New Year's Day races, a way to recover from all the drinking
the night before, and people leap into the small lake in their underwear,
shrieking at the cold.
Severus feels his mood lifting as he bites into a steaming burnt chestnut. In
Avebury, Lucius in his fine cloak earns no more stares than the eccentric older
women with their dowsing rods. The Malfoy heir seems to be recognized in these
parts and Severus can feel envious eyes upon himself as people wonder about his
companion. These pleasures may seem simple to Lucius Malfoy, but in Spinner's
End, Severus would not even have this.
Quite suddenly the thought of going back is unbearable -- not only back to the
house where his father has probably not yet awoken from his drunkenness of the
night before, but back to a place where no one has ambitions to be something
more important, where it is assumed that a boy of his background will end up
doing drudge work in a shop or playing assistant to someone far more important.
When has he ever dared to wonder if he might become an important or feared
wizard, let alone to dream of defeating death?
"What's the matter?" asks Lucius, interrupting Severus' thoughts and echoing
his frown. "Aren't you enjoying yourself?"
"I am," Severus replies automatically. Then, "I don't want to go home."
"It can't be helped, I suppose," Lucius sighs. "But you'll come of age soon
enough, and then you can spend the holidays wherever you please." For a
horrified moment Severus thinks Lucius believes he means that he does not want
to return to the Malfoy house. "It's better now when my father's not there...I
imagine yours is, too," Lucius adds, and then Severus understands that it is
Lucius who does not wish to stay in his own home. "Next Christmas I'll see if I
can't convince my parents to go abroad early."
"Let's go back," says Severus in a low voice. "Let's go back early and go to
bed."
Lucius' wicked smile warms the afternoon. "I thought you would never ask."
Back at the mansion there is Mull cheddar soup and grouse and pumpkin pie, all
fresh for the New Year, with firewhiskey to bring in a quick spring. While they
wait for the food to settle they sit in the room with Lucius' grandfather's
hunting trophies and play Gobstones, laughing uproariously when the stones spit
disgusting liquid onto the dragonskin rug. When at last they retire to Lucius'
rooms, snow has begun to fall outside the windows and the night with it, making
the house seem hushed and isolated from the worlds of Muggles and Wizards
alike.
"We smell like bonfires," says Lucius, not disapprovingly, and then in an
entirely different tone: "We could take a bath." Severus doubts that there will
ever be a time when he stops associating bathtubs with his first glimpse of
Lucius unclothed; merely stepping into a tub, even the miserable one at home,
sends a quiver of arousal through him. Turning towards the bathroom, he recalls
the tour of the house Lucius gave him the morning after he arrived and a
thought occurs to him:
"We could have some of that potion you took from your father's collection."
"That," smiles Lucius, "is a brilliant suggestion." Quickly he retrieves the
little bottle. "I've never used this with anyone before -- there's some risk
that it will act like a love potion. Effects temporary, of course, but it
enhances all aspects of the experience: you feel things more strongly, you're
more sensitive, you have better endurance. If your emotions are engaged they
will be more passionate. You can see how dangerous it could be in the wrong
situation, which is why it's illegal. Here." Unsealing the bottle, he hands it
to Severus. "Just one swallow."
The potion is like a feast of aphrodisiac flavors one after another, rosemary
to curry to fig to ginseng to cinnamon to chocolate, with a faintly spicy
aftertaste that leaves Severus craving salty skin on his tongue. Handing the
bottle back to Lucius, he sways slightly, and Lucius, laughing, helps him to
the bath. "It will take a few minutes to reach full strength, so we may as well
enjoy ourselves in the meantime." Finishing off his own mouthful, Lucius pours
something into the water that smells of chypre and musk, stripping Severus as
the tub fills. The water catches the candlelight, sending rainbows into the
steam above the tub, bright on Lucius' skin and hair as he sinks in. The
rainbows seem to follow Lucius' fingers as he washes Severus, simple touches
making him gasp.
"When we go to bed," says Lucius, "I'd like to blindfold you, so you can
experience the feeling without any distraction." Under other circumstances
Severus knows he would be nervous at the thought of Lucius watching his
responses to stimuli he cannot anticipate; Severus can easily imagine Lucius
introducing pain or something startling, with the expectation that Severus will
be pleased, when in fact Severus cannot guess how he will react especially with
this potion distorting his reason. And yet he wants what Lucius wants: he
thinks that there is nothing Lucius could ask of him now, even if it involved
the darkest of Dark Arts, which he would not find exciting.
"Anything," Severus groans. He is already achingly hard and would be growing
impatient were it not for the myriad distractions, the dancing rainbows in the
mist, the softness of Lucius' fingers in his hair, the hot water and cool air
alternating on his arms and shoulders...
"Come," whispers Lucius, and Severus very nearly does, untouched, as Lucius
tugs on his waist, but it is not a sexual command: Lucius is merely trying to
lift him from the tub, rinse him clean beneath the shower and wrap a thick
towel around him, each thread seeming to tickle his hypersensitive skin. He
gives a soft groan, and when Lucius leans forward to lick the water from his
throat, he arches helplessly against him, rubbing his prick over the soft
material trapped between himself and Lucius. "Eager, I see. Isn't the potion
wonderful?"
When the towel is gone, Severus still feels as though he is surrounded by waves
of warm water stroking and heating his skin. He knows that he is flushed, and
even the darkest corners of the room seem lit by a rosy glow. The rainbows
follow Lucius as he leads Severus to bed where the curtains are already
swaying, parting like veils to invite them to the intimate space.
Lucius teases Severus with the blindfold before putting it on, gliding the
velvety fabric across his thighs, around his prick and over his lips where he
thinks he can smell and taste his own arousal. With his eyes covered, his skin
feels even more alert, sensing the currents in the air as Lucius shifts around
him and sets all the fabric hanging from the canopy in motion. Severus feels
his wrists caught up and lifted above his head, not bound tightly, but moved
out of the way to expose more of him. He can feel different textures being
stroked across his body -- silk, satin, leather, velvet, twisted rope, light
cord, and ohh that's Lucius' skin, that's Lucius' hair being dragged across his
belly and prick, those are Lucius' fingers tracing a pattern on his belly,
letters, even, perhaps a spell...
"What are you doing?" he asks, his own breath like a warm breeze on the part of
his face not covered by the blindfold, which has not stopped the rainbows from
dancing before his eyes. The flesh beneath Lucius' fingers is heating up,
twitching and undulating, and his prick is straining to press into the hand
just out of its reach.
Breath that is cooler than the touch raises goosebumps on Severus' belly as
Lucius replies. "I'm marking you as mine," he murmurs, halting the slow slide
of his fingertips. "You are mine, aren't you? You said you loved me."
"Oh," groans Severus, then, "Yes," and "Don't stop." He wishes that he could
see Lucius' face, to know whether this humility will be seen as weakness like
the words Lucius had not wished him to speak, yet at the same time he senses
that he does not need to know. Lucius would not lay claim to anything he
believed unworthy or faulty. Perhaps Lucius has blindfolded him not only so
that his skin might feel this pleasure undistracted, but so that he cannot look
into Lucius' eyes and read whatever truths he might find there...
A hot enclosure surrounds his prick, making all thought vanish until there is
nothing but demanding pressure and bursts of violet-red-orange fireworks in the
place of vision. Fabric fingers stroke his chest and underarms and thighs as
Lucius sucks him, drawing repeated shameless cries from him, the whole bed
seeming to sway with his pleasure, until at last he can hold back no longer and
overflows in hot bursts in Lucius' mouth. When it is over he hears Lucius
murmur a spell and instantly his arse feels relaxed and slick, as if fingers
have been massaging the opening. "I want to fuck you like this," Lucius tells
him, kissing his way up his body. "I want to come inside you. Would you like
that?"
"Oh, yes," whispers Severus, and then, "Take off the blindfold. I want to see
you." For a moment there is stillness, then he feels fingers fumbling at the
knot, and the fabric falls away. The brightness of the dim candlelit room
shocks Severus at first and he must close his lids, but they have adjusted by
the time Lucius has arranged his legs to either side and pushed a pillow
beneath his hips. He can see the sheen of sweat on Lucius' face and shoulders,
like a triumphant athlete, and he watches the muscles ripple beneath the skin
as Lucius raises himself over him and pushes inside.
Though the stretch is awkward, there is no pain this time -- perhaps because of
the potion triggering ease throughout Severus' body, though he thinks it is
also because he is looking into Lucius' eyes as he thrusts and the man's
pleasure flares brightly enough to encompass both of them. It should be too
soon for Severus to grow aroused again, but the magic fading the edges of the
bed into a colorful blur is already working on his prick, making it throb
against his belly. And he can feel what Lucius is feeling: he can stare right
into his thoughts and make the room swim, seeing himself bound and owned,
wrapped in a blanket or in the earth, drawing power, giving and taking in an
unbreakable current with Lucius...
You're mine too, Severus thinks without speaking, unsure whether it is
recognition or command. In either case there is no resistance. He feels Lucius
shudder, thrusting into him almost violently, stabbing pressure that coalesces
into ecstasy. And he can sense what Lucius feels as well, the tight spiral in
his groin releasing in a series of bursts, both of them coming, their shouts
mingling.
"That was astonishing," says Lucius much later, lying belly to belly with
Severus as the canopy fabrics wave gently over them both like cooling fans. "I
had no idea. Now I know why they consider it a love potion." He chuckles softly
and Severus joins him, though he is certain that the potion is not why he was
able to reach Lucius as he did.
Whether Lucius wishes to call it by that name or not, there is something
between them now that feeds as it is fed; perhaps it is base or even cursed,
but it is powerful, and it is making Severus powerful as well in ways he does
not yet understand. He thinks of the haunted chambers in the barrow and
understands at last why Lucius would choose the blackness, the blindfold, the
dark.
***** Inundation *****
The first week back at Hogwarts after Christmas, Severus thinks that Lucius
must be testing him. Though the Head Boy smiles when he passes Severus in the
corridors, greets him in the common room and converses with him on neutral
subjects like gobstones and Transfiguration, it is as if there has never been
anything else between them. No one seeing them together would ever suspect that
they are friends, let alone lovers. There is just enough contact that Severus
can bear it -- he did not see Lucius at all for the last few days of the winter
holidays, after all, so this is still an improvement. Yet he cannot help
wondering whether he did something wrong, or if things simply went too far.
By the second week back at Hogwarts, he has begun to wonder whether Lucius is
testing himself rather than Severus. Though the courteous smiles and
conversations continue, the Head Boy's smile seems strained. He fidgets,
glancing down the table when his friends speak to him at mealtimes, and when
Severus sees him doing homework or playing wizard's chess in the common room,
he seems easily distracted. Though he always looks away when he notices that
Severus has seen him, Severus has glanced up to find Lucius watching him with
an intent gaze more than once while helping Regulus Black with his Potions
homework.
Professor Slughorn had sent the younger Black to him, saying that if Sirius
could not get that pretty Gryffindor Lily Evans to help his own brother, then
Regulus would do well to ask Snape who was the other outstanding Potions
student in their year. Though Severus still scoffs at the Slug Club, he has
been making an effort to impress the professor who can be very generous at
sharing both materials and information with favorite students. Lucius must have
mentioned the Felix Felicis to him, for Slughorn had smiled at Severus in class
and said that talent must run in his family, and when Severus had asked about
ingredients for love potions, the teacher had chortled and winked, hinting that
he would soon find out the name of the lucky lady with whom his student wished
to share Amortentia.
Severus does not allow himself to haunt the older boys' dormitory, the fifth
floor corridor or other locations where he knows he will see Lucius, but he
does take routes through the castle that allow him to pass places where he
knows a chance meeting could plausibly occur. He is surprised, then, when he
enters the Potions classroom during the third week back at school hoping to ask
Professor Slughorn a question about healing draughts, only to find a blond,
handsomely dressed figure there waiting for him instead. "Finally I have a free
evening," announces Lucius. His expression is relieved, as if he has solved
some problem that had been weighing on him, and his grin is cheerful with a
hint of mischief. "Are you busy? If not, I thought that perhaps you could help
me with something in the prefect's bathroom..."
Though Severus has been peevish as well as unhappy, and had even told himself
that he might decline an invitation from the standoffish Lucius just to teach
him a lesson about taking people's feelings for granted, he finds himself
returning the smile with a growing sense of joy. "I'm not busy," he says,
dismissing from his mind his promise to meet Regulus. "I'd be happy to help you
with your something."
The tub has already been filled when he arrives, though to Severus' surprise
the water is devoid of any of the magical bubbles, foams or fizzing potions
that change its color and make bathing here such a delightful experience. After
undressing, he trails his fingers in the clear pool and is surprised to find
that it is also quite chilly. "Aren't we going to freeze in here?" he asks
Lucius, who is shaking out his hair, watched by the mermaid in the painting on
the wall.
"It will feel warmer in a few minutes," Lucius tells him with a mysterious
smile, making Severus wonder whether he is planning to do something naughty
like pee in the tub. "But before we do anything, I want to prepare you."
"Does one of these taps make some kind of lubrication?" asks Severus, only
half-joking. The slippery, soapy foam may be divine for wanking on the
platform, but soap can sting internally and the prefect's bathroom seems
equipped for every sort of pleasure, even some that one would expect to be
forbidden to students, like champagne bath bubbles.
"The silver and onyx ones produce wonderful sweet oils, but we need something
that will last underwater for awhile." Severus shivers softly; he had been
hoping that Lucius would fuck him in the tub, with his upper body cushioned on
one of those enormous bubble-floats perhaps, stroking him until he pumped out
come into the warm foam. "Here, lie down on your belly." He does so, feeling
the cool tiles against his skin as he bends his knees up. The tip of Lucius'
wand touches between his buttocks, just grazing the sensitive pucker; Lucius
utters, "Imbuo!" and the area feels suddenly hot and slick inside and out.
"There," Lucius says happily, pressing the very tip of the wand inside Severus
who opens for it effortlessly. He feels his heart pound at the perilous
stimulation, wondering what it might be like to be fucked by something as hard
and unyielding as a wand, which could be charmed to pulse or vibrate or turn
hot and cold as it prods in and out. "I've always wanted to fuck completely
underwater. I've done it in midair, with Wingardium Leviosa, but that isn't the
same as being surrounded by liquid. Now, I know you've been feeling neglected,
but I have a special treat for you."
"I haven't been feeling neglected," objects Severus halfheartedly, gasping as
the wand is withdrawn and trailed down the backs of his balls, leaving him
aching for more. "I know you've been busy..."
"I've been scheming." Pulling him upright on his knees, Lucius grins at him,
and Severus is more certain than ever that he was right -- Lucius had been
testing not only his young lover's restraint but his own. "Look."
From a pocket in his discarded robe, he pulls a handful of a slimy, dead-
looking plant. The round worm-like leaves are shiny but more gray than green,
and when Severus touches one it feels like a cold squid tentacle. "It's
gillyweed," Lucius explains. "It will make you grow gills."
"You mean you want to fuck completely underwater?" inquires Severus, very
slightly nervous and also vaguely disappointed, for he will not be able to see
Lucius' expressions nor hear his sounds if their heads are below the surface.
"Don't make that face before you've tried it. If we were by the lake we could
chew a wad of this and stay underwater for hours, but the water from these taps
contains too many impurities -- it will make you sick if you try to stay below
for too long." Severus wonders how Lucius knows this, though he can imagine
Lucius submerging and pleasuring himself, even lurking at the bottom and
watching in amusement while others use the tub.
With careful fingers, Lucius plucks several leaves from the clump and hands
them to Severus. They feel clammy and rubbery in his hand, like flobberworms.
"Chew them before you swallow," admonishes Lucius, picking off several leaves
for himself. "You're going to get quite breathless, as if your lungs won't work
right, then you're going to feel as if someone has sliced your neck on both
sides. As soon as that happens, duck underwater and open your mouth. Some
people panic and pass out, which can lead to a terrible headache later when it
wears off. Don't fight it -- it's quite enjoyable."
"But I won't be able to hear you," says Severus, a little sullenly.
"You'll be able to hear me a bit, gurgling and splashing. And you'll be able to
see me -- your vision will be quite clear. We'll be floating! My hair will be
waving around your head. You'll be able to move your legs into positions that
are impossible to hold on a bed, I won't have to balance my weight and I can
touch your cock and your nipples all at once. When you come in the water it
will spread out all over me. It will be very intimate. Doesn't that sound worth
trying?"
Blushing that Lucius knows what he will want so well, Severus nods a bit. He
puts a hand over the side and runs his fingers through the water, still
surprised that Lucius has made it so much cooler than usual. "Your body will
adjust as soon as the gillyweed takes effect," he promises upon seeing Severus
react. "Oh! And your fingers will become webbed -- it takes a bit of getting
used to, but you can still use your hands. It's quite remarkable to touch your
cock with that extra flesh."
A wicked grin, then Lucius lifts a gillyweed leaf, slurping it down as a snake
would swallow its prey. Severus tries to do the same, chokes on the leaf and
stuffs them all in his mouth at once, chewing the rubbery clump as he slips
into the water up to his waist. It is quite cold, raising goosebumps over his
entire body and making the muscles in his belly contract. His throat does not
want to swallow the mashed leaves, yet he forces them down, trying not to gag.
A moment later Lucius has executed a graceful dive into the tub and as he comes
up gasping at the chill, Severus' chest, too, begins to feel as though it is
being compressed.
"Down!" Lucius calls to him when sudden sharp pain assaults his neck, as if
someone has drawn swords across either side below his ears. The ache in
Severus' chest is growing intolerable yet he cannot even cry out. And suddenly
Lucius shoves him below the surface, into darkness, into a blinding moment of
terror as his mouth fills.
Then he can breathe again...he is breathing, taking in water through his mouth
and passing it through the slits in his throat, his unnecessary lungs closing
over, his head as clear as his sight. The underwater vision reveals details of
the tub he has never noticed from above, dozens of little tiled dragons and
mermaids, and a spigot near the bottom creating a current in the now-temperate
water. When he takes a stroke, swimming easily toward the surface, he is
shocked to see his fingers, which have turned greenish and become connected
like those of a frog.
Breaking into air, he feels the pressure in his chest begin at once and his
vision blurs. Ducking back under the water, he looks down at his newly
amphibian feet and does a flip, something that has always been difficult for
him before. Now it is effortless, and not far from him, he sees Lucius diving,
twisting through the water like a porpoise to his side. Wrapping their arms
together, for it is difficult to hold hands with the webbing between their
fingers, they move in a slow circle that feels like dancing -- not dancing as
Severus has ever experienced it, with all the awkwardness and clumsiness of
trying to keep track of his feet, but dancing as he has imagined it, free-
floating and spirited.
Lucius looks beautiful and otherworldly underwater with his hair fanning about
his face like a pale cloud. Though Severus knows that real mermaids are dark,
eerie creatures, the golden man looks more like the painting on the wall above
the tub, and when he pulls Severus close to kiss him openmouthed, Severus
thinks that the legends of mermaids told by Muggle sailors must have arisen
from seeing someone like Lucius gleaming below the waves. Lucius' skin feels
very different beneath newly webbed fingertips and his body is delightfully
responsive, rippling and slithering with every touch. Sound is, indeed, not
necessary, for Severus can sense changes in the water currents themselves from
every pleasurable vibration.
The touch of Lucius' strange new hands on his own skin is a surprise as well.
In certain places it seems to have grown tougher, thicker -- his back, for
instance, and his longer, stronger legs, which can easily flip himself and
Lucius over in the water as they embrace. But certain spots are delightfully
sensitive, like the delicate skin of his throat between his gills, and when
Lucius lowers his mouth to suck there like some kind of subterranean serpent,
Severus' entire body feels electrified, as if the water is sizzling dangerously
all around him, sending tingling currents through his body.
Lucius spins Severus away through the water, catches his hand and reels him in
as if they are ice skating together in an effortless spiral. When he comes to a
halt, his back is resting against Lucius' chest and he can feel Lucius' stiff
prick prodding his buttocks. Remembering that they cannot remain under the
water for long, he spreads his legs, a little sorry not to be able to spend
more time exploring this strange underwater world. Lucius had said that in the
lake, the gillyweed would let them stay below for longer, and Severus
determines to try it when the weather is better suited to swimming outdoors.
For now he lets Lucius nuzzle the hair that floats weightlessly from his scalp,
dark and flat where Lucius' is fair and bright, but equally buoyant underwater.
The rough pads of Lucius' webbed fingers brush across his chest as Lucius tugs
him closer, stimulating him in places not usually so sensitive to such a simple
touch. When the cool lips brush again just below his gills, it is as if Lucius
is kissing him on the mouth, so powerful is the reaction through his body.
Again Lucius turns him about until they are face to face, giving him another of
those openmouthed kisses that require Severus to stop taking in water for the
length of the contact. He is lightheaded when it stops, as if he has been
holding his breath...which, he supposes, he has.
It will not be feasible for Lucius to prepare him any further with his fingers,
for the thin panels of skin between them make such penetration impossible. But
his insides still feel hot and slippery from the spell Lucius used, and he
thinks that it will not be painful if Lucius enters him now. Fuck me, he
thinks, staring into Lucius' eyes, which are nearly the same pale blue as the
water around them.
I'm going to fuck you. It is as if Lucius has spoken, though his lips have not
even moved. The emanation from his mind travels through the clear water like a
current. Raising his legs, Severus wraps his feet around Lucius' back and tries
to slide himself down on the prick that prods against his hole, nudging
uncomfortably into his balls before Lucius changes the angle and pushes into
his body.
Though there is no tearing pain -- the spell has ensured that -- the feeling is
bizarre and unpleasant, as if his body cannot adjust to the difference in
pressure so far underwater. Lucius thrusts gently at first yet the motion is
enough to propel them through the water. Severus is acutely embarrassed as air
bubbles escape from him when Lucius withdraws, yet there is laughter in Lucius'
eyes and the strain inside eases. He relaxes, enjoying the feeling of Lucius
carrying him, driving them slowly from one side of the tub toward the other,
showing him the pleasure that he can experience in this strange new body.
Urging him to lean back, Lucius bends at an angle that would be impossible
without the transformation that has made him flexible as an eel and brushes his
mouth over the head of Severus' prick. He cannot close his lips to suck, for he
would be unable to take in water for oxygen, but he teases Severus with an
unnaturally long amphibian tongue, peering up to smile at him. The sense of the
room swimming is less pronounced than usual with the currents in the water
rippling between them, yet in Lucius' eyes Severus can see his recollections of
the first time he fucked him, the intense, possessive pleasure. Still mine,
Lucius is rejoicing, thrusting harder, flipping them over in the water. Severus
feels lightheaded, as if this is a dream, and when Lucius begins to stroke his
prick in time with his thrusts with his long webbed fingers, he thinks he could
die from the pleasure.
At this exotic angle it seems to be taking him longer to come than any previous
time he had Lucius inside him, particularly with so much stimulation all over,
and his heart seems to be pounding harder again, making the beats pulse in his
head and groin. The dizziness increases, adding to the intensity, though there
is a strange new feeling -- an ache at the sides of his neck -- and his mouth
feels strangely full...Severus swallows, realizes that he is now gulping water
instead of breathing it. He senses momentary concern, a frustrating hesitation,
and thinks Don't stop.
The water has grown chilly around him and Lucius' fingers on his prick feel
like human fingers again, yet it does not matter, for the most powerful orgasm
of his life is building, as his eyes blur and he feels Lucius throb inside him
and he shudders, his lungs burning, throat searing, the world going dark.
You're mine too. His balls clench against the cold, against the lack of air,
pumping empty through his prick which is exploding like his head...
Then there is nothing but darkness, thicker and blacker than the inside of a
barrow, drawing him down.
"...Severus. Open your eyes."
The pain in his head is intense. Somewhere off in the distance, there is light,
but he cannot bear to look at it, it will scald his eyes...
"Severus. Open your eyes. Please."
Oh, but he knows that voice. That sounds like Lucius' voice, though not as
Severus has ever heard it. Lucius sounds unhappy. Lucius sounds...afraid. And
despite the ache in his head and throat and chest and limbs, Severus does open
his eyes.
The Headmaster is bent over him, fingers hovering above his forehead, chanting
something that is drawing the pain out of him, making it vanish into the air.
When he sees Severus watching him, he looks deep into his eyes. "My dear boy, I
thought for a moment that we had lost you," he says quietly. "How do you feel?"
"Like I'm going to be sick," replies Severus hoarsely, recognizing the feeling
only as it overwhelms him. Dumbledore rolls him quickly to his side as his body
convulses and water pours from his mouth, gallons of water, more than he
imagined his belly could hold, surely he swallowed half the tub...
When the heaving stops he is trembling uncontrollably. Strong hands help him to
sit up and something warm is wrapped around him -- he is in Lucius' arms on the
floor of the prefect's bathroom, bundled in a towel.
"What happened?" he asks faintly.
Dumbledore kneels again, touching his face, tilting his chin to examine him. "I
was hoping that you could tell me," he says.
"You drowned," answers Lucius with a catch in his voice. "Don't you remember,
the gillyweed? You only chewed a leaf or two. I didn't realize that you were in
trouble -- I guess you got disoriented. I climbed out and I couldn't see you,
then I dove back in but you were at the bottom. When I pulled you out you
weren't breathing, so I used my wand to call for help and Professor Dumbledore
responded..."
Severus' head feels as if it is filled with soap bubbles but his memory is
perfectly clear up until the point where he must have lost consciousness.
Obviously Lucius has already concocted a story for the staff...feeling the
older Slytherin squeeze his arms, he nods, trying not to lean back too
obviously into the solid comfort of the body behind him. "It's my fault," he
croaks. "I made up a spell to get into the prefect's bathroom. I took the
gillyweed from Professor Slughorn's office...he's been tutoring me, he lets me
use his ingredients..."
"I have heard that you have an exceptional aptitude for Potions," Dumbledore
replies. He is still looking at Severus, checking his nose and throat to be
certain that he is not injured, yet Severus has the impression that the
Headmaster is studying Lucius even more closely, though he never even glances
up at him. "Lucius, why did you not confiscate the gillyweed?"
"He was going to," Severus adds hastily, hoping that this will not contradict
anything in Lucius' story. "But I'd already started chewing it. I didn't really
understand how it worked. I think Malfoy thought it would be safer in here than
if I'd gone down to the lake, without anyone else around."
"Is that how it happened, Severus?" Is there something else you wish to tell
me? Too late he realizes that Dumbledore has looked into his eyes, and he is so
weak, it would take no effort to read the lie. It isn't fair, fumes Severus,
that Dumbledore can just invade, the sneakiest and slipperiest of all, when he
is so distrustful of the Slytherins...
With all his concentration Severus thinks Protego! at the Headmaster. And then
something extraordinary happens. He feels his mind seal closed, as if he has
enclosed it in one of the bubbles that seem to be clouding his focus.
Dumbledore's probing stare brushes past it harmlessly, leaving Severus'
thoughts untouched.
The Headmaster regards him in surprise, yet rather than seeming impressed,
there is a kind of sadness in his face. "I gather that Potions are not your
only extraordinary skill," he says quietly. "You have great natural talent as
an Occlumens. But be careful with your choices, Severus. There are no easy
paths to power, nor to happiness."
Now there is no doubt that Dumbledore knows everything that transpired in the
prefect's bathroom. Severus' mind may be closed, but Lucius' is not; from his
position on the floor, even without being able to look directly at him, he can
sense the older boy's fear and the confused emotions beneath it. I told you
that you loved me, thinks Severus tiredly, watching Dumbledore raise his head
for the first time to look at the Head Boy.
"And you, Lucius. I trust that you will be more vigilant in the future?"
"Yes, sir," replies Lucius at once, bowing his head and letting his damp hair
brush Severus' face, though whether this is to hide anger or demonstrate
regret, Severus cannot tell. "I'm sure that Severus did not mean to abuse any
privileges. Nor did I. You won't find him in here again..."
"I believe you may find that some privileges, once granted, are not so easy to
revoke." The Headmaster's eyes return to Severus. "You are no longer a child.
When you choose to embark upon adult experiences, you must accept adult
responsibilities."
"Yes, sir," repeats Severus in what he hopes is much the same tone that Lucius
used. Dumbledore's words seem odd to him, for it sounds as though the
Headmaster is not insisting that they stop everything they have been doing
while at Hogwarts. In fact, he does not seem to be suggesting that they have
done anything heinous, other than taking this immoderate risk in the water.
Lucius had said that love was always Dumbledore's weakness. Is it possible that
the Headmaster understands?
"Lucius, I would like you to take Severus to the hospital wing." Severus
flinches, for Madam Pomfrey will surely know from examining him what they have
been doing in the water, but Lucius shakes his head imperceptibly and Severus
understands that there must be a way to disguise it. "Tell her to have a look
at you too, just to be safe. And then, I'm afraid, some detention must be in
order. Five scrolls on the dangers of misuse of gillyweed from each of you. I
shall have Mr. Filch supervise. In addition, this bathroom will have to be
cleaned. Perhaps early tomorrow, before your classes?"
"Yes, sir." While they watch Dumbledore get to his feet, he looks down at them
as if he will say something more, but he only shakes his head slightly with the
previous expression of faint sadness. Then he leans down to help Lucius heave
Severus to his feet, where he stands shaking until Lucius accios a heavy robe
from the corner of the bathroom and turns to hide Severus from the departing
Headmaster until he has dropped the towel and bundled himself in the warm
velvet.
"Just let me finish dressing," says Lucius, who is wearing his outer robe with
nothing beneath. "I threw it on as I sent the summons. Can you imagine facing
him stark naked..."
The effort to nod makes Severus sway, and Lucius catches him, pulling him
close. "I knew the gillyweed was wearing off," he admits hoarsely. "But I
didn't stop. I swear to you, I won't take such a risk again..."
Severus lifts his head to look at him, into his eyes. Even in his weakened
condition, it takes very little effort to push into Lucius' mind, where he sees
scenes that shock him. A little blond boy is crying over a mangled dog while an
older man tells him to come away...a slightly older boy is standing in a group
of people in fancy clothes while a casket is lowered into the ground...a
teenager is standing in the secret dungeon room of the Malfoy mansion, his
shaking hands opening a box marked with a skull. Then Severus sees himself,
lying on a tiled floor with his eyes and mouth open...he can hear Lucius'
voice, very nearly sobbing, "I'm sorry, Severus, come back, please, I can't
lose you..."
And it hits Severus like a stunning spell that he drowned -- he very nearly
died. He came close to touching the undiscovered secrets that obsess Lucius and
returned, yet Lucius has not asked him a single question about the experience -
- Lucius is instead apologizing to him for having gone too far. Though it all
should be frightening, it is strangely exhilarating.
The room reforms around him standing in Lucius' arms. The man drops his eyes
but not before Severus sees that there are tears in them. "Here, sit down so I
can dress," he says gruffly. "Will you be able to walk to the hospital wing? I
could get someone else to help..."
"I think I can walk." Privately Severus knows that Lucius may practically have
to carry him, but he has no fear. Lucius did not mean for him to drown. Lucius
will fall with him rather than letting him collapse. He is paler than usual
tugging his clothing into place, and his eyes are as wild as his hair. "Listen,
I know you didn't mean for that to happen. I'm not sure Dumbledore believed the
story, though."
"I'm sure he didn't, but he can't prove anything. Not that that would have
stopped him from having me expelled if you..." Turning, Lucius steps close and
impulsively puts his arms around Severus again. "You're very strong, though,"
he whispers rather shakily. "The way you woke up and covered for me, just like
that. I won't forget this. I'll make it up to you."
Pushing aside an urge to hush Lucius and hold him like a child, Severus nods.
"Dumbledore said that we have to clean the bathroom," he reminds Lucius.
"Tomorrow morning. We'll have it all to ourselves again."
Lucius is silent for a moment, hugging him, but there is already a change in
his breathing, and when he speaks there is a kind of happy wonder in his voice.
"I'll get up early and clean the bathroom," he promises. "I'll have it ready by
the time you get here. And then you can have me any way you want."
Like this, thinks Severus. It is enough to have Lucius just like this, focused
for the moment completely on him, with passion making his eyes blaze. It will
not last, he knows, for Lucius will leave this place and his love of power and
prestige will return. But Severus is strong, and now Lucius understands that.
What is between them will not disappear like a temporary pair of gills. This is
real.
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