|inamac (inamac) wrote in severus_sighs,|
@ 2011-02-20 20:37:00
|Entry tags:||member: inamac, pairing: severus/lucius, rating: r|
Fic: Valentine Victims
Another late AVD fic - I did try to finish on time but Real Life is a b***h.
Title: Valentine Victims
Characters: Severus Snape/Lucius Malfoy
Word Count: 900
Warnings: slightly dub con opening
Prompt: (sort of) Prompt 8 – Severus was going to get his Valentine, one way or another.
Summary: Visiting Malfoy Manor can be a dangerous undertaking...
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to JKR. Everything else – doesn't.
A/N: Sorry for the delay, and the abrupt ending - Thajks to the mods for allowing a late post (is it ever too late for smut)?
"Did you know," asked Snape, ignoring the hand that his host extended to him and brushing aside the house elf hovering to take his cloak, "that the stone gargoyles on your gateposts have been replaced by little pink putti? Wielding bows and arrows? One of the little beasts nearly got me before I managed to Petrify it."
"Ah." Lucius retorted, knowing that the best way to deal with Snape's temper was to ignore it. "That will be Draco. He said that he's prepared a Valentines Day surprise for us."
"Us?" The colour drained from Snape's usually sallow complexion. Lucius hastened to reassure him.
"Narcissa and myself. I am afraid that our son thinks that we need to bring the romance back into our marriage. He may possibly have overheard a slight altercation before she left to dine with her coven."
Snape ignored the disparaging reference to Narcissa's lady friends and concentrated on the effect. "And how will having her shot at by pudgy infants achieve that? All right, all right, here..." This last was to the house elf who was tugging determinedly at the cloak which still hung from Snape's shoulders. He whirled it off and thrust the fabric at the creature. Lucius noted the slender silver dart that fell from its folds but refrained from comment. Apparently Snape had not been as quick with his freezing spell as he had thought.
"I believe it's a Muggle thing. Draco got the idea from his Muggle studies teacher. She is apparently very keen on celebrating Muggle holidays.
"One of these days," Snape muttered under his breath as Lucius led the way to the library, "I will do something terminal to Charity Burbage." A sudden thought struck him. "I didn't know that Draco took Muggle Studies."
"He doesn't. I understand that Dumbledore gave Flitwick a few days off to attend a conference and the Burbage woman took his classes. She seems to have spent time teaching them love charms. Hence the cupids on the gateposts. I will, of course," Lucius added with a stern frown, "be sending a pointed note to Headmaster Dumbledore."
"I'm still not sure that I understand the significance. What is 'Valentine's?"
Lucius indicated that Snape should take a seat as he crossed the room to select a slim red-leather bound Muggle volume from a shelf. Snape scowled. It was bad enough that Lucius had inherited such a well-ordered library (his own collection of books, while equally numerous, could hardly be described as a 'library' since they were scattered around the house on every flat surface available in well-thumbed confusion), but that he could so easily find specific volumes suggested that the man did not regard his inheritance as mere interior decoration.
"Saint Valentine," the older man read, "Appears to be something of a fiction devised to allow for the continued celebration of the Roman festival of Lupercalia by the early Christian Church." He smiled, grey eyes alight with mischief. Severus, who recognised that look, became wary.
"And the cupids and arrows stuff? That hardly sounds like the Romans. Or the Christians for that matter."
If anything, Lucius's smile became wider. "Ah, the arrows of Love. A very pagan concept." He set the book down and picked up his wine, eyeing the cup with pointed interest. It was a family heirloom, an Attic black-figure beaker depicting a group of naked young men celebrating the grape harvest. "There is something to be said," Lucius continued thoughtfully, "for continuing old traditions."
Snape snorted. "Do you always have to be so round-about in your dealings, Lucius? If you want to fuck you only have to ask."
Lucius gave no outward sign of having heard the vulgarity. He swirled the wine in the cup, raised it to his lips, threw back his head so that his loose hair flowed down his back, and tossed off the remainder of the wine in one swallow. "Well," he said at last, "That's very forthright."
"I am." Snape set down his own drink and began to unbutton his flies. Lucius watched the long fingers at work with detachment. The last button slipped free and Snape pushed his trousers down. Like Lucius, and most traditionalist wizards, he did not wear undergarments, simply knotting the long tails of his shirt together to support and protect his genitals. He freed the knot and pulled the fine linen shirt off, smiling when he noticed that Lucius's gaze had not followed the movement but was still riveted on his revealed cock. He threw the shirt aside and leaned back in the chair, displaying himself shamelessly. "Come on, Lucius. You weren't this reticent in the old days. You'd have had me in your hand or your mouth by now."
Lucius still hesitated. What Snape said was true. They had, for a while, been enthusiastic lovers, but Lucius had never, even in the darkest days of his service to the Dark Lord, taken advantage of anyone under magical coercion.
"Severus," he began.
"It's Valentine's Day," Snape interrupted. "I think we ought to celebrate. Since Narcissa's absence has given us the opportunity and Draco's little charm has given us the incentive."
Now Lucius smiled outright. So Snape had noticed the fallen dart. And that changed the game completely. "Well, since you put it so succinctly." He stepped forward, put his hands on the arms of the chair and used the leverage to descend slowly to the floor until he was kneeling between Snape's parted knees.
"Let us, by all means, take advantage of whatever opportunity presents itself. Even a Muggle holiday."
It was the last thing he said for some time.