Author: melusinahp
Theme/kink: AU
Warnings: Non-con
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5,658
Compliant to: HBP



Title: Between the Cup and the Lip
Pairing: Lucius/Harry
Warnings: No DH spoilers, but it's really, rather extremely AU after DH.
Summary: Even the most devious Slytherin sometimes finds it necessary to change his plans, especially when confronted with a particularly sneaky Gryffindor.
Notes: Gratitude and pinches to son_of_darkness and annephoenix for the betas. XXX


Lucius was bored. Mind numbingly, near-catatonically bored. He hated being bored. When his Lord had first plucked him free of Azkaban, Lucius had been ecstatic. However, his joy only lasted the amount of time Voldemort took to inform him why he'd been rescued. Apparently, letting Lucius rot away in prison on a God forsaken island in the middle of nowhere wasn't a harsh enough punishment for the fiasco at the Ministry (which had not remotely been Lucius's fault, really; a child could have determined that.) No, a truly suitable punishment, in his Lord's view, was to send Lucius to rot away in a crumbling stone hut in a God forsaken forest in the middle of nowhere. At least in Azkaban he had been served his meals, had been allowed to bathe in a proper bath and had had actual human company on occasion. Here, in the disgusting little hovel to which Voldemort had seen fit to exile him, Lucius had to forage for his own food and the only human voice he'd heard within the last six months had been his own.

Lucius was actually beginning to get sick of the sound of his own voice.

So, when the scruffy, crazed looking half-blood boy came crashing out of his fireplace, covered in soot, Lucius sat up and took notice. Here was something new and interesting. Here were all sorts of tantalising possibilities. He had to restrain himself from gathering the boy up in his arms, brushing him off and offering him a cup of Earl Grey with lemon.

Instead, he remained seated in his chair, leaned back languidly, and said, "Mr. Potter. This certainly is a surprise."

At the sound of Lucius's voice, the boy immediately rolled over and pointed his wand at Lucius, his eyes blazing and his shoulders heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The corner of Lucuis's mouth turned upwards. "Yes, yes," he said, lazily lifting his own wand towards Harry, "Shall we try to be just a little bit civilised about this? Conversations at wand point are just so wearing."

The boy scrambled to his feet, virtually spitting with hatred, his trembling wand still pointed directly at Lucius's chest. "Where is it? I'll hex you to Kingdom Come if you don't answer. Tell me where it is."

Lucius chuckled. "Ah. I now see the reason behind your little visit. What a shame. I thought you might have stopped by for the pleasure of my company."

The Potter boy shouted out a stupefying hex, and Lucius lazily blocked it. "Are you all on your own, little Potter? No werewolves or Aurors to help you along?"

"I'm more than capable of taking you on by myself, Malfoy. Now tell me where Cup is or I'll…"

Lucius was already bored with the boy's verbal sparing skills. He carefully laid down his wand and stood up before taking a step towards him.

Potter took a step backwards, looking confused, flicking his gaze between Lucius and Lucius's discarded wand, keeping his own wand brandished. "What are you doing? Stay back."

"Come, come," said Lucius, and swept his hand towards Harry's wand, making it slip from his hand and fly across the room. Harry yelped in panic and made to leap after it, but Lucius kept the boy's feet magically bound to the floor, so Harry only swayed, waving his arms to keep himself from toppling over. His face went pale beneath his glasses and the muscles in his legs twitched frantically as he refused to give up trying to move.

Lucius watched the boy struggle futilely and smiled. For the very first time, he was glad to have been given such a ridiculously tedious assignment.

---

Every second of every minute of every hour of every day, the Cup sat plainly on a small table, torturing Lucius. What had started as a fleeting question, a puzzle that popped into his head as part of a longer thought process, had now become an obsession.

Lucius liked to transfigure things. Turning mouse into cat, cushion into knife, terrapin into mirror – it helped him pass the time. He found it amusing to give an animal the shape of its enemy or an object the form of its opposite. As the time crawled by, he'd begun to challenge himself by performing harder and more unusual transfigurations. He turned a beetle into an ottoman, a clock into a roast dinner and an owl into the complete works of Shakespeare. He was pleased with himself; mind you he was usually pleased with himself, but now he was particularly pleased with himself.

It was just the Cup. Sitting there. On the table. Taunting him.

The fly in the ointment.

He could Transfigure the Cup. He'd Transfigured plenty of Cups. He could do it.

He'd never Transfigured a Horcrux before, however, and had never heard of anyone else doing such a thing.

What would happen if he transfigured this particular Cup?

Lucius wanted to know, and Lucius was rather accustomed to getting what he wanted. He'd circle round the table, looking, examining. The Cup was small, golden and beautifully wrought. The badger engraved on its surface would smugly scratch itself, looking back at Lucius as if to tease him. Lucius could swear that the creature actually winked at him at once. To be so goaded, so denied, by a Hufflepuff! It was intolerable.

The fingers of his wand hand itched with his desire to act, to satisfy his curiosity, but he couldn't act, of course. The conundrum had to remain unsolved whether Lucius liked it or not. He couldn't afford to antagonise the Dark Lord; not at this crucial point. One simply did not trifle with a Dark Lord's soul fragments – no matter how maddeningly tempting the idea.

So, Lucius remained a loyal watchdog. He repressed his curiosity. He waited and created an ebony dining table from the corpse of a wild boar he'd killed. It held him. For the moment.

---

"We'll make a deal, " Lucius purred. "You give me what I want, and I'll give you the Cup."

Harry crossed his arms across his chest and lifted his chin. Remnants of ebbing sunlight glinted off his glasses.

"Not curious?" Lucius continued. "Not interested in what you could possibly have that I'd desire?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Not interested in anything you have to say, really."

Lucius stepped forward, eyeing Harry, lacing his gaze upwards, up the boy's thin legs, across his hips, pausing at his crotch – too well sheathed in Muggle clothing to tell much about it -- swirling over his stomach and waist, across his chest, finally resting on his face, meeting Harry's gaze directly and pointedly. Harry, Lucius noticed, had begun to perspire.

The boy's clear discomfort prodded the knot of lust tightening in Lucius's belly. He moved forward another couple of feet. He was now mere inches away from the boy and looked down at him. Such green eyes. So full of fury. Lucius had a fleeting memory of the sound of Harry's screams as he was Crucioed as a fourteen year old in the graveyard. The knot twisted almost painfully. Keeping himself in check, he wrapped the fingers of his left hand around Harry's shoulder, constricting them into an iron grip. Harry allowed Lucius to hold his gaze without flinching, but Lucius could smell the boy's anxiety. Lucius felt dampness against his fingers where they slid under Harry's armpit. He leaned his head slightly forward and breathed in – sweat, ashes, and fear. Exhilarating.

He leant down further and pressed his face into the boy's neck. Harry shuddered against him, making a sound in his throat, pushing against Lucius with his hands.

"Stop that. What are you doing?"

"I'm telling you what I want, Harry. Telling you what you will have to give me in exchange for the Cup."

"I don't understand."

"No?" Lucius closed the remaining space between them and wrapped his arms around Harry's back, sliding them down until his hands were cupping his arse.

Harry was shaking against him, his legs jerking as he continued to try and escape from the spell that held him fast to the spot. "No!" he said, pushing harder with his arms against Lucius's chest.

Lucius pressed his hips forward, letting Harry feel the length of his eager cock against his stomach. Harry's struggles became frantic, and Lucius's lust reached such a peak that he considered simply forcing the boy down and taking him on the floor there and then. Instead, he relinquished his hold and stepped back. Harry's face was fully flushed. Lucius stroked his cheek and found the boy's skin hot to the touch. He trailed his hand down until it was covering Harry's chest, and he could feel the boy's heart fluttering beneath his palm.

"Clear?"

Harry shook his head. Lucius was growing impatient. He began to unbutton the boy's shirt, starting from the top. "If you insist on remaining so obstinately dull, I suppose I shall have to be even more demonstrative."

Harry's words sounded thick and wet, "I don't understand." He clutched the front of his shirt, trying to keep it closed. Lucius simply grabbed Harry's lapel and ripped the rest of the buttons from their fastenings. The violence of the action woke Harry from his confused haze, and he began struggling in earnest. Lucius grabbed Harry's head and pulled his face to his own, smashing his lips against Harry's in a deep kiss, whilst pressing his cock even harder against Harry's body.

Harry cried out, twisting violently. Lucius released the charm holding him to the floor and quickly grabbed Harry, crushing the boy's arms to his sides. Harry writhed like a snake as Lucius pulled him into the bedroom, his feet scraping against the floor. Once there, Lucius heaved him up onto the bed and then pinned his body down with his own. Harry's breathing was fast and heavy. Lucius moaned softly, letting Harry hear him.

By this point, Harry positively reeked of panic. Lucius inhaled deeply, drinking in the intoxicating odour of Harry's sweat, and then slowly pulled away and sat up. Harry immediately scrambled away from him to huddle against the headboard. He stared at Lucius, eyes big and round. He looked like a small, trapped animal – a mouse or a rabbit. Lucius licked his lips.

"Take off your clothes."

"No!"

"It will be more pleasant for both of us if you are unclothed. It's a condition, a requirement of the deal."

"I haven't agreed to any deal."

"Are you that proud, Harry? So tight with your virtue that you'd let slide the chance of gaining one of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes? A quick, simple fuck and it will all be over. Really, what would Dumbledore say if he knew you were being so selfish?"

Harry's eyes narrowed and he bared his teeth. "Don't you talk to me about Dumbledore. If it wasn’t for your son…"

Lucius sighed dramatically, reached forwards and grabbed Harry's ankles. He yanked them down until the boy was lying flat on the bed and then began removing Harry's clothes. Harry's eyes widened and his eyelashes began to flutter, but he passively allowed Lucius to continue.

"You won't give me the Cup. Why would you? You must think I'm really stupid."

"You presume I am still loyal to the Dark Lord," said Lucius, sliding the zip of Harry's jeans downwards and smiling as Harry's eyes widened even further. "A fair enough assumption. False, though." Lucius gently pulled the jeans down off the boy's slim hips and legs and followed this by removing his boxers. He glanced away from Harry's flaccid cock to his face and noticed his violent blush and too bright eyes. Nice. Nice cock, too, red, uncircumcised and of medium length. "The last of my faithfulness faded away in Azkaban as the days passed and my "Master" allowed me to rot alone in a dank cell with nothing but Dementors for company. That sort of thing is very trying on one's sense of devotion." As a final measure, Lucius pulled off the boy's socks. He was now completely naked.

Once again Lucius sat back. This time he summoned the jar of lube from his chest of drawers, screwed off its lid and applied it liberally to his engorged cock. Harry laid prone on the bed, watching him as if unable to look away, his limbs stiff. When he was slick and ready, Lucius arranged himself over Harry and gazed down at his body. Dark body hair, of course, but not too much. A sprinkling on his chest running in a line down his stomach and blossoming into soft curls around his cock. His skin was pale and dotted with small, flat moles in places. There was a tiny one right below his left nipple. Lucius bent down and licked it, making Harry squeak. "Little rabbit," said Lucius, "you look nervous as a young girl." Harry's lips pursed angrily, and Lucius once again claimed them with a kiss, which was again not returned.

Lucius's pulled on his foreskin, and ran his thumb over the shiny, slick head of his cock. His desire had reached the point of no return. He positioned himself against Harry's entrance, and then gave a small experimental push, keeping his eyes directly on the boy's.

Harry jerked his arse away from Lucius's touch and cried out, "I-really-really-wish-you-wouldn't-do-this!" before falling back into deep gasping breaths.

"Your heart is beating faster than a bird's," responded Lucius, pushing Harry's thighs forwards till his knees were sharply bent on either side of his own hips. "Be careful or you'll hyperventilate, and I don't much fancy taking you while you're unconscious."

"I wish I was. I wish I was unconscious."

"Now, now, rabbit. You're making me feel rather unwanted." He watched as the boy began chewing on his lips, eyes staring blankly towards the ceiling.

"Just get it over with," Harry whispered.

Lucius didn't bother holding back his smirk. He repositioned his cock and slid slowly forward, entering the boy, burying only the head inside him. The boy's tightly clamped muscles parted nicely for him, their resistance futile. If felt exquisite. It had been years since he'd had someone so tight and fresh. Lucius had to take a moment to gather himself.

The sound of the boy's snuffling brought him back down to earth. He examined Harry's face. Harry was blinking rapidly, his eyes slightly narrowed, his lips tightly pressed together. Lucius could tell that he was desperately trying to stop himself from crying. He smiled and pushed himself further in, slowly, savouring the slick friction, until he was fully sheathed. Harry's nostrils were flaring as he inhaled. His eyes were full to the brim, but, by a hair's breadth, he was winning the battle against tears.

That wouldn't do.

Lucius slowly withdrew, paused, and then slammed his cock fully back into the boy in one brutal motion. Harry screamed, and then choked. His entire face was creased with the effort of holding back his tears, yet Lucius was gratified to see them leaking slowly from the corners of Harry's eyes.

"God. Stop. Just stop. I don’t want to do this."

Lucius had to wait until his own breathing came slow enough for him to speak without effort. "It's a bit late for you to change your mind, rabbit. I'm afraid you're just going to have to grin and bear it." He pulled out a bit and then thrust forcefully back inside Harry. A fresh sob forced its way out of Harry's mouth. His hands were curled into fists.

He was delicious. For the first time in over a decade, Lucius felt gratitude towards the Dark Lord. He began fucking the boy slowly, drinking in his winces and whimpers; his arse was extremely tight and gripped Lucius's cock beautifully. As the sensations increased in intensity, Lucius felt his mind begin to fizzle. He bent down, digging his teeth into Harry's shoulder, biting him again and again. He grabbed a handful of soft, black hair and bent the boy's neck backwards so could suck on his neck. Harry moaned, twisting beneath Lucius's pumping body. Lucius could feel the pressure of the boy's bony knees against his sides, his fingers scratching at Lucius's shoulders. Without thinking, he sped up and began thrusting harder, his hips rubbing between Harry's spread thighs.

"Stop… please…"

The boy was actually begging. Lucius knew he couldn't last much longer. He decided to make the most of it and pushed himself up on his elbows, pistoning his cock forcefully in and out of the boy, feeling the pleasure building as Harry sobbed, his eyes tightly shut.

Lucius moaned as he came – a long, drawn out sound – and dug his fingers into Harry shoulders. He rutted forwards slowly a few more times, drawing out the last of his orgasm as Harry shook beneath him. So exquisite. Lucius felt utterly content. He turned his head and gave Harry a soft kiss on his tear-drenched cheek, licking the salty liquid off his lips afterwards. Harry shuddered and then hiccoughed.

Lucius slid out of Harry's body and kneeled, looking down at him. Harry turned away and curled his body into a ball. Smiling, Luicus got off the bed, left him there, and went to attend to his toilet. Washing felt delicious. His skin was nicely sensitive and his muscles relaxed. His imagination danced through the endless possibilities, positions, and games he could play with young Harry. The boy's responses were perfect. Lucius felt like a new man.

When he returned to the lounge, he saw that Harry had put his clothes back on and was standing rigidly in the middle of the floor.

Harry might have been cleaned and dressed, but the signs of his recent debauchment were unmistakeable. His hair was crazily askew and his lips were swollen and red. Lucius could see a bit of a purple bite mark beneath the boy's collar. He smiled, watching the boy try and pull himself together, to muster some dignity and authority, as if he hadn't just been ravaged, crying and begging throughout. Lucius felt his cock twitch. He'd wait an hour or so. Maybe forty-five minutes.

Harry cleared his throat. "Well?

"Hmm?" replied Lucius, absently.

"The Cup," said Harry, before grinding his teeth together. His body was stiff with tension.

"Oh, the Cup. Yes. I was lying about that, obviously. Did you really think I'd hand over one of the Dark Lord's most precious artefacts to his worst enemy? For a fuck? Harry, you aren't a stupid boy, but I…"

Lucius suddenly found his face being pummelled by fists. Harry had launched himself at him in one swift movement and was now shouting, almost screaming, as he punched him. Lucius's head was knocked from side to side, a fist hit his nose and there was pain. Recovering from the initial shock, Lucius found Harry's wrists and grasped them tightly in either hand, ending the onslaught. They boy fought valiantly, but Lucius was vicious and single-minded. He forced his body forward off the chair until he was lying flat out on top of Harry on the floor, pinning his arms to his sides, his face an inch away from Harry's.

"One does not use one's fists against a Malfoy, Mr. Potter." No one – not once in his forty odd years of life – had ever raised his hand to Lucius before. No one had dared. He showed Harry his teeth, staring down into the eyes that still gleamed with rage and despair.

"I couldn't tell you how many times I've smashed your pathetic son's face in. I've lost count. I'll do it again, next time I see him, too."

Lucius felt his lips twist with rage. The chit had no idea of his place, even after Lucius had demonstrably shown him where he stood in the power structure. He lowered his face even closer to the boy's.

"You really don't have any sense of decorum, do you Harry?" he whispered.

"Go fuck yourself!" Harry shouted, and then head-butted Lucius squarely in the centre of his already tender nose, making Lucius shriek and roll off him.

He lay on the floor, hands over his nose, amazed at the lighting bolts of pain shooting through his face. Harry was laughing; the boy's voice was high and hysterical, but nevertheless full of mirth. Lucius's lips curled with anger. He drew his wand and tapped his nose, healing it, before turning back towards Harry.

He stood up, his wand pointed down at the boy, and felt the rage gather in his abdomen as he prepared to cast the Cruciatus Curse. Harry looked up at him, his expression revealing that he was fully aware of what was coming. His muscles were tensed but his face was defiant, almost eager, as if he were welcoming the upcoming pain…

Lucius lowered his wand. Pain wouldn't break this boy. Pain was just another challenge for him to face, another thing to survive.

Instead, Lucius grabbed Harry by the hair on the top of his head and began to drag him back towards the bedroom. Harry shouted and clutched at the wooden floor as he was pulled across it. Once they were in the room, Lucius yanked Harry to his feet, pushed him face forward onto the bed, and began pulling down his jeans from the back.

"No!" screamed Harry. "No! Not again. Get off me!"

Lucius shoved him savagely down onto the bed, gripping a fistful of his hair in one hand whilst pressing down on the small of his back with his knee. He freed his cock, which had quickly sprung back to attention, and smeared it with lube from the pot sitting open on the bedside table. He didn't take too much care, as the boy was probably still slick from their earlier activities. He shoved himself into Harry's arse in one swift, insistent movement, holding Harry's arms fast against the bed by his wrists. Harry's cry as Lucius violated him once again was muffled by the bedclothes, but Lucius drank in its tone of anguish, pain and defeat.

This was how to break a boy like Harry – use his body to get to his mind. Lucius smiled. He fucked him hard and savagely as Harry screamed into the mattress, his hands gripping the blankets tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

Then, suddenly, Harry went limp. And quiet.

The muscles in the boy's legs and arse had lost their delicious tension; his back and arms were slack and Lucius found that he had to grip the boy's hips quite tightly in order to raise enough resistance to continue. It was like fucking a squid.

Lucius paused. The boy was still breathing – rather quickly and loudly, in fact – he was neither dead nor unconscious. Lucius thrust into him once more, and while there was a fleeting resumption of tension in the boy's body, he did little more than flop against the bedclothes. Rage bubbled in Lucius's chest and then burst forth, flowing through his whole body. He drove into Harry as hard as he could, forgetting that he was fucking, thinking of nothing but hurting the boy, of forcing him beyond his passive resistance. It did no good. Harry whimpered slightly, but other than that gave no reaction.

Lucius was taken surprise by his own orgasm, which shuddered out of him weakly and without warning. He jerked his body out of and away from Harry, took a step backwards and bellowed, "Crucio!" his wand pointed towards the half naked figure splayed on the bed. Harry instantly flexed into a knot and fell to the floor with a thunk, screaming and convulsing. Lucius held the curse on him, feeling his chest rise and fall, until the necessary energy began to ebb. Then he spun on his feet and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

---

"It's obvious, isn't it?"

Startled to hear the boy's voice after so many days, Lucius turned to look at him. His eyes widened as he took the boy's appearance in fully for the first time in a week. He'd lost weight, a lot of weight, and he'd been skinny to begin with. His eyes seemed to have grown in size and were shadowed, lined with dark circles. His lips were white and cracked.

"It would simply change shape," Harry continued, and then coughed to clear his throat. "The Horcrux aspect wouldn't be effected. Why would it?"

By this point, Lucius had given up trying to bed the boy. Harry refused to respond appropriately, and Lucius had lost his taste for him. He still had his uses, though. Lucius was a man who liked to talk, liked to hear his thoughts spoken aloud, liked to present them before an audience. Since he'd grown tired of talking to himself, Harry's presence unleashed a flood of chatter that – were Lucius a different sort of man – might have been embarrassing. He spoke of his family and how he missed them, of what this life had been like when he was Harry's age and how much better things had been back then, of his hopes and dreams for Draco, of the magnificent state of the wizarding world once the Dark Lord had triumphed.

He also, of course, talked about the Cup.

Harry sat huddled in a corner staring at the floor or into space, sometimes holding his face in his hands. He gave little response to Lucius's ramblings – maybe a bit of a sneer when Lucius mentioned his son, a slight spark when he spoke of the Dark Lord. Once, he'd mentioned Severus, and the boy had actually met his eyes for a split second.

Lucius presented him with food, and insisted that Harry join him at the dinner table, as was only civilised. Harry would poke and prod at the offerings, but ate almost nothing.

Now, this sudden engagement in conversation caught Lucius's attention. "Go on, Harry. I'm extremely interested in your opinion on this matter."

"He might be grateful, in fact. Voldemort."

"Why is that, rabbit?" Lucius clenched his jaw, feeling an urge to smack Harry for his impudence but not wishing to discourage him either.

"Well, you'd be doing him a favour, obviously."

Lucius cocked an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair.

"We've all been looking for the Cup. If it wasn't a Cup anymore, well, you could hide it anywhere. You could wave it under Mad Eye Moody's nose, and he'd be none the wiser."

Lucius gave Harry a hard look. Harry's eyes were wide. He looked completely guileless.

"You'll never know unless you try, will you?"

Lucius suppressed the thrill of excitement that was blooming in his gut. He wanted to try. He wanted to try so very, very much.

"And what would you know about Horcruxes, Harry? Why on Earth should I take your opinion seriously?"

Harry snorted and met Lucius's gaze. "I've already destroyed three of them. I know how they work, what they are made of. It's the protective spells that are dangerous, not the Horcruxes themselves. Souls are fragile, wispy things. You release them from their containers and phoof! They just kind of evaporate. But, you know, whatever. I don't even know why I'm bothering telling you." Harry began to mutter, moving his attention once more to the floorboards and picking at a knot with his forefinger. "Won't listen to anything I say, anyway."

Lucius stood, his hand clenching and unclenching over his wand. He took a step forward, paused, then stepped back and sat back down again. He crossed and uncrossed his legs.

"You do it. You do it, Harry, if you're the expert."

Harry glanced back up at him and shrugged. "I could. I was never much good at Transfiguration, though. Probably turn it into a pile of dung or vanish it or something."

Lucius realised that he was biting his lip and stopped. He was beginning to tire of the boy's presence. He was no longer decorative and, more and more, was becoming irritating, like a mosquito buzzing around your ears when you're trying to sleep. Staring down at Harry, who was crouching in the corner hugging his knees, Lucius wondered what he'd look like transfigured into a sofa cushion or a bidet.

Not yet, though. He wasn't quite ready to go back to living all on his own.

He was confident, at least, that he could stand up to the boy's needling. The boy's manipulative skills were coarse and transparent, and Lucius was accustomed to mingling with Slytherins who were underhanded and scheming as a way of life. Persuasion was an art, and Harry was a boy utterly lacking in art.

There was absolutely no way in Hell Lucius was going to allow himself to be influenced by the clumsy little half-blood chit.

---

The figure bobbing between his legs giving him such intense pleasure shimmered and fluttered, changing appearance and identity without Lucius being fully conscious of the transformations. First Narcissa – her silky hair brushing maddeningly against his thighs, then Severus – his long, bony fingers digging deep into his calves, then shadows of someone unidentifiable and equally blonde but much smaller than his wife who filled him with a delicious sort of shame, and then Harry. Harry, gripping his waist and sucking his cock for all he was worth. Yes, Harry. Lucius's mind swam to the surface and he blinked in the darkness, awakening, and finding that his dream had elements that were very real.

Harry crouched on his knees between Lucius's splayed legs, licking and sucking, clumsy, rough but oh-my-Lord so bloody good. Lucius moaned sleepily, arched his back, and reached down to grasp Harry's head in his hands. There was something about his boyish fumbling, his lack of rhythm, and the way his teeth kept dragging painfully against Lucius's shaft that was unbearably erotic. A whore with such inexpert skills would have been thrown to the ground and discarded without payment, but this ridiculous boy made it work for him. Gripping Harry's hair in his fists, Lucius began to thrust upward, enjoying Harry's gagging and gasping sounds.

As Lucius began to thrust in earnest a small whimper managed to escape from Harry's throat, and that was it – Lucius came like a freight train, flooding the boy's mouth and throat with his seed. His mind went blank with pleasure for a good ten seconds.

Superb.

Once Harry had stopped choking and spluttering, he crept forward on the bed and lay down at Lucius's side, turned away but near enough that Lucius could feel the skin of his back against his shoulder as the boy breathed. Lucius didn't fully emerge from his post-orgasmic haze, but allowed it to carry him blissfully back into sleep. His last act before consciousness evaporated altogether was to roll over and throw one arm possessively over the boy's shivering body.

He'd known the boy would come round. It had only been a matter of time.

---

The explosion had been awe-inspiring.

One moment Lucius had been standing triumphant and eager, holding his wand towards the Cup and reciting the incantation he'd been perfecting during the last few months. The next he was regaining consciousness, lying flat on his back and watching blurry snakes of smoke shimmering into focus as they wove their way upwards into the grey sky.

Gingerly, Lucius turned his head from side to side. The hut was no more than rubble, his clothes and other possessions so much charred and twisted junk. There was no sign of Harry, not so much as a tuft of hair or a gust of Gryffindor odour. The boy must have skedaddled as Lucius lay unconscious on the ground.

Bollocks.

Carefully, he sat up and then rose to his feet. Bruises, a few cuts, one deep gash on his wand arm, but his body was otherwise unscathed. The same couldn't be said for his robes, which were singed and torn beyond repair. Pity. They'd been his favourites.

His wand was jutting out of the ground a yard away. It took several good tugs to free it from the charred earth. It was slightly blackened about the handle, but otherwise had not been damaged. Thank Merlin for that. He healed his cuts and scrapes and made his clothing as presentable as possible.

Then he steeled himself for the worst.

The portal into the room was still open. Lucius peered into it and saw nothing but blackened walls, splinters of what had once been a table and shards of shiny gold sprinkled prettily about in various places. The Cup was utterly and completely gone, as was his Lord's precious Horcrux, as utterly gone as Harry was and likewise any prospect Lucius may have had of holding a position of power in the Dark Lord's new wizarding world order.

Double bollocks.

As Lucius gathered himself to flee, he ran over in his mind his list of Ministry contacts that might possibly be persuaded that he'd seen the errors of his ways and had now decided to join the fight to eradicate the blight of Dark Magic and its supporters. He cast his mind back to his school days, scanning it for any memory he might possibly have of Rufus Scrimgeour behaving in a way unbecoming to a Minister for Magic. It didn't take long before an incident involving a first year girl, some raspberry jam and a nest of Puffskein's came to mind.

He allowed himself a second of deep satisfaction – not only because he knew without a doubt that Lucius Malfoy would rise again, but also because he also now knew exactly what happened when you tried to Transfigure a Horcrux.

And, best of all, he also knew what kinds of noises the surprisingly crafty Saviour of the Wizarding World made when you bit him.

-- The end