Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: leni_jess
From: leela_cat

Title: Fleur-de-Lis
Characters/Pairings: Lucius/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Included: D/s, hair kink
Other Warnings: None
Word Count: ~4,000
Summary/Description: When he'd left the Manor five years earlier, Harry hadn't planned to return. He'd only dreamt of it.
Author's Notes: Happy Kinky Kristmas, mystery prompter. I hope this story makes at least some of your kinky dreams come true.
Thanks to my betas: M, F, and R.


"Why me?" Harry couldn't help asking, even though he already knew the answer. "Why not send someone else, anyone else?"

Sighing, Gawain Robards rubbed a hand over the back of his irritated-looking neck. "Name one other Auror or Ministry official who'd be allowed through the front doors of Malfoy Manor without a warrant?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, only to be cut off, "And don't suggest Minister Shacklebolt."

"That's not fair."

"Well, it's not bloody raining, is it? If it were, we wouldn't be worried about a drought."

"Bastard," Harry said, without rancour.

Robards grunted and shoved a manila folder across the table. "Appointment is at three o'clock. Do not be late. As I'm sure you're aware, Malfoy is not as accommodating as your current boss."

"I'm not usually that late."

"By whose watch?" Robards shook his head. "Don't bother, all right? You get your job done, and I haven't received a single complaint, which is nothing short of a miracle. Keep this up, and they'll punish you by giving you my job."

Getting into yet another discussion about his future as an Auror was just about the last thing Harry wanted to do. It was right down there -- or was that up there -- with going to Malfoy Manor and spending time with Lucius Malfoy. For a moment, Harry just stared at the folder. It was very thin, likely holding only one or two sheets of parchment or photographs. The magic seal on the front was dark red -- sealed to his blood.

Gritting his teeth, Harry placed his thumb on the seal. The jab was fast, sharp, and painful. And absolutely necessary if he was going to be able to see what was so important that they had to send him out there.

The folder held one photograph and one case report. The investigation into the death of Narcissa Malfoy was officially over. The Aurors in charge of her case had identified her murderer and obtained Pensieve memories and a Veritaserum-enforced confession to back up the physical evidence. The file had immediately been sealed.

"Dawlish?" Harry couldn't keep a note of horror out of his voice. "Malfoy could crucify the Ministry over this."

"Not if you do your job properly," Robards said, then added, "I've never asked why your training ended so abruptly. I honestly couldn't give a rat's arse. Just don't fuck this up."

None of the words that came to Harry's mind were ones he could say to his boss. Even if he wasn't sure he wanted to continue being an Auror. Instead, he scooped up the folder, nodded to Robards, and left his office.

Dropping the folder into his private drawer, Harry warded it -- to his blood and his magic -- and headed for the lifts. This called for a drink or twenty with Ron and George. They'd understand without needing any explanation.

Bugger the fact that it was just after lunch and bugger Robards's demands. Harry finally had a reason to go back to Malfoy Manor -- to Lucius -- and he wasn't going to allow anything to fuck it up. Not even himself.

o)*(o

At two minutes to three the next afternoon, Harry stood outside the gates of Malfoy Manor and waited. A potion had taken care of his hangover. An Umbrella Charm protected him from the driving rain. The folder was in an official dragonhide pouch with the Ministry seal on the outside. His Auror robes were immaculate. His hair was as tamed as possible. He felt like a berk.

At precisely three o'clock, the gates swung open.

Harry stepped through them and onto the Apparition portal. He winced as a Remote Side-Along Apparition grasped onto him, squeezing him through space and spitting him out at the bottom of the front steps.

He was pretty sure he hated that damned spell more than he hated Side-Along Apparition. One day, he'd get his revenge on Finch-Fletchley for introducing the Unspeakables to Star Trek. Spells that imitated transporter beams were not Harry's idea of a brilliant invention.

As he walked up to the front doors of the manor, he cast a surreptitious Grooming Charm on himself. He was not willing to face Lucius looking like he'd just been squeezed out of a tube of toothpaste.

The doors swung open as he reached them. A house-elf stood in the centre of the warm, wood-panelled foyer, wearing the crested toga that had replaced the pillowcases the Malfoy house-elves had once worn.

"Harry Potter, you are welcome to the Manor," the house-elf said, her voice high and squeaky. Her pointed ears twitched, her round brown eyes blinked rapidly, and she bared her teeth in a smile.

Harry smiled back. "Hullo, Mippy. I'm here to see Lucius."

"Master is in his study." Mippy stepped to one side and gestured towards a hallway. When Harry walked past her, she chided him, "Harry Potter should have come back sooner. Master waited for him."

Before Harry could respond, she disappeared with a pop.

Taking a deep breath, clutching the pouch, he walked down the hallway. A pair of portraits whispered as he passed. But his entire focus was on the light that flickered from a partially open door.

When he'd left the Manor five years earlier, he hadn't planned to return. He'd only dreamt of it.

o)*(o

"You were sent to me six months ago because you lacked control. One year of Auror training, six trainees and four trainers injured by your wild bursts of magic, one workroom still being cleansed and restored months later. All because your magic reacts to your moods, and your moods... well, least said about those, the better, don't you think?" Lucius prowled around Harry, who was kneeling on the rug in the centre of the room. "Do you feel in control now, Harry?"

Harry kept his eyes downcast, focussing on the fleur-de-lis design just in front of his knees, and allowed his posture to answer for him.

The unexpected slam of Lucius's cane against the wood floor next to Harry's left foot sent a ripple of alarm through him, but he jabbed his right thumb into his thigh and his magic subsided without so much as rattling the priceless porcelain vases.

"So much depends upon proving your ability to learn from me," Lucius said, crouching down behind Harry. "Will you bear the responsibility for your failure? Or will you return to the world only to wreak more havoc? Much depends upon your answer, including my family's continuing freedom."

Harry bowed his head.

"Speak," Lucius murmured into his ear, sliding a hand up Harry's neck and into his hair and sending a quiver down Harry's spine.

"I'll take responsibility for those things I've done wrong," Harry said. "Nothing more and nothing less."

"Is that so?"

"Yes." Harry smiled as he remembered the relief that had washed through him when he'd finally understood that last lesson. "I learn. You teach. My failure is therefore your failure."

"Well done." A hand on Harry's shoulder, Lucius rose smoothly to his feet. Then, releasing Harry, he walked around to sit in the dark blue armchair in front of him. Flames reflected on the top of Lucius's polished, black leather boots. Light glittered in the strands of hair that spilled over his shoulders. A whispered spell kept his cane upright at his side.

They stayed like that for long minutes. Harry breathed in and out, aware of everything in the room around him. A fire crackled and spat to his left. A warding spell shimmered over the abstract paintings, preventing portraits from entering. Candles flickered in sconces, and light globes hovered near the ceiling, where they cast the desired shadows into corners and behind the sleek wooden desk.

"Your reward, Harry," Lucius said, his voice contemplative. "I believe that you have earned it, as we agreed. For tomorrow, you return to the world outside the Manor."

"Oh." Harry was disappointed, relieved, unbearably sad, and infinitely happy. His respite was almost over, his freedom soon to be returned.

Raising his head, Harry met Lucius's eyes. He blinked first, last, or maybe at the same time as Lucius. Then again, the order didn't really matter. His life didn't have to be a competition or a battlefield, not anymore.

o)*(o

Shaking off the memory, Harry stood outside the study door and took a moment to compose himself. His silent mantra was a wordless hiss of Parseltongue -- a language that he could somehow understand in his head, although the ability to form the sounds had died along with Voldemort.

When Harry felt completely in control, he moved the Ministry pouch to his left hand and raised his right hand to knock.

The door swung open before his knuckles so much as grazed the wood.

Lucius sat by the fire in a familiar armchair. His cane stood upright at his side. His legs were stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. He wore loose house-robes in blue silk and soft leather house shoes.

Stepping into the room, Harry waited for the door to close behind him and for Lucius to turn his head. The grey eyes considered Harry, evaluating him, before Lucius gestured towards the armchair opposite him.

As Harry sat down, a delicate table appeared on the rug between them. An ornate silver tray sat on the table, bearing two porcelain cups of coffee and plates of Harry's favourite tarts and biscuits. Each leg of the table rested in the centre of a fleur-de-lis. Harry could feel a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he laid the pouch on a corner of the table.

"Apparently Mippy is pleased to see you," Lucius drawled. At a wave of his wand, the cup of black coffee floated to Lucius's free hand. An elaborate confection of pastry, cream, and fruit followed shortly afterwards.

"I've missed her." Harry picked up the other cup of cream-pale coffee and helped himself to a chocolate biscuit. And you, he added silently.

For a few minutes, they ate and drank in comfortable silence. Back in this familiar setting, Harry found it relatively simple to dip into his well of patience. He had no need to fidget or to manipulate a start to the conversation.

Harry had seen Lucius over the past five years, but he'd never been this close nor been allowed time to really look at him. The years had added a sprinkling of silver-white hair to Lucius's temples and deepened the lines around his eyes. His hair was caught at his nape and hidden between Lucius's back and the chair, so Harry couldn't be sure if it was the same length or not. Lucius was relaxed, instead of being constantly on guard.

It looked good on him, Harry thought, shifting in his seat as a flare of heat and arousal flushed through him.

Sending his cup and plate back to the tray where they landed with a click that caught Harry's attention, Lucius arched an eyebrow at him. Once Harry had replaced his own cup and plate, the tray vanished.

The pouch lay on the table. Harry put his hand on it, intending to draw it towards him, only to hesitate when Lucius covered Harry's hand with one of his own.

"Tell me, Harry."

Harry nodded. And remembered. The last time he'd heard Lucius say those words had been in this same room, five years earlier.

o)*(o

"Tell me, Harry. What you would you like for your reward?"

A plethora of wants and needs rose inside Harry. At first, he didn't know how to decide, to pick just one, to ask for something just for himself. But then Lucius moved and his hair swung and Harry knew. Swallowing hard, resisting the urge to cross his fingers against the possibility that Lucius would decline, he said, "Your hair. You. Taking care of my needs."

The words hadn't made much sense, but Lucius seemed to understand anyway. A slow smile curved his lips and warmed his grey eyes. "You understand what you're offering?"

In response, Harry lowered his gaze to the ground and linked his hands behind his neck.

Lucius's touch, when it came, was a gentle caress of his warm hand along Harry's jaw. Following his instincts, Harry leant into it. Then, without allowing Harry to lower his arms, Lucius slid forwards in his chair and cupped Harry's face in both his hands.

"The choice to end this at any time will be yours," Lucius said. "For now, I want you to think of a word, one single word that you rarely use. And when you say it, I will stop. No matter what we are doing. Understand?"

Harry nodded, not trusting his voice or wanting to look away from Lucius.

Angling his head so that his long, blond hair draped over Harry's shoulders and touched his cheeks, Lucius kissed him. His hands tightening almost painfully on each other and on his neck, Harry parted his lips and encouraged Lucius's tongue to enter. The warmth, the smooth slide against his tongue and teeth, the fullness in Harry's mouth felt like a promise. One Harry intended to make Lucius keep.

o)*(o

Harry cleared his throat and curled his fingers. As if Harry had spoken, Lucius lifted his hand.

Another pass of Harry's thumb over the seal, and he was able to open the pouch. He glanced down at the folder, spread his hands over it, and then looked up at Lucius again. "I don't know how much they told you."

"The Eyes Only missive from the Ministry advised that they had discovered irrefutable proof of Narcissa's murderer and that they would send a representative at a time of my choosing."

"You asked for me?" A warm feeling snaked up from Harry's stomach and slithered into his chest.

"I trust you to be honest and not to twist the truth into something you think I wish to hear." Lucius sat back in his chair and rested his right ankle on his left knee. Only the way he kept a hand wrapped around his ankle revealed his agitation.

"Thank you." Flipping over the top cover of the folder, Harry turned the photograph around so the bottom edge faced Lucius, and slid it across the table.

Lucius stiffened. Anger flashed through his eyes before he dropped his gaze to the photograph. "I ought to be surprised," he finally said, "but Mr Dawlish always did have an odd sense of what constituted justice."

"Do you want to read the report?"

"Perhaps later." Lucius snapped his fingers. A bottle and two crystal tumblers appeared on the table. When they each had a drink in hand, Lucius asked, "Does that file contain a single reason why I shouldn't use this to tear the current Ministry to shreds and install one of my own?"

Turning his glass, Harry watched the light spark rainbows off the design cut into the crystal, using that to shore up his control. Then he smiled. "Nope."

Amusement twisted Lucius's lips. "Is that the official line?"

"Nope." Harry grinned. "They're terrified you'll do exactly that, or at least Robards is. I haven't talked to Kingsley about this particular mess."

"I believe," Lucius drawled, "that in my grief over my wife's untimely death at the hands of a deranged Auror, I shall require some kind of distraction."

"Really?" Harry snickered. "Any distraction in particular?"

"Oh, I'm sure that the Minister and I can come to some kind of agreement. Perhaps a seat on the Wizengamot would prove suitable."

Before he could control his shock, Harry's eyebrows rose towards his hairline. He only just managed not to whistle.

Clearly satisfied with the reaction he'd wrung from Harry, Lucius smirked and licked his lips.

Harry caught his breath and then licked his own lips. The darkening of Lucius's eyes in response, and the way they followed Harry's tongue, sent a thrum of arousal and memory through Harry.

o)*(o

"Hedwig," Harry murmured in response to Lucius's repeated request for a safeword. The image of his owl's white wings curving around him gave him a sense of security, the same one that he had gained from Lucius over the past months. He no longer wondered what his teenage self would have thought about that, having acknowledged how little he'd known of this man despite their many confrontations, but the idea still surprised him some days.

"Perfect." Lucius adjusted his position, placing his feet on either side of Harry's knees. Then he bent down and swept his tongue over Harry's lips.

"Mmm," Harry managed, kissing back. He was losing himself in the sensations of his lower lip being sucked into Lucius's mouth, of Lucius's hands sliding into his hair and tugging lightly, of Lucius's silken hair brushing his arms. He clenched his hands together, so tightly it was almost painful, fighting the urge to touch, to bury his hands in that hair, to know how it felt on his bare skin.

"Please," he moaned and could feel Lucius smile against his lips.

"Talk to me. Tell me what you want."

Merlin, Harry thought, as an image of wrapping himself in Lucius's hair spread heat through his prick and bollocks.

"What do you like, Harry?" Lucius murmured, and then sucked on Harry's earlobe. "What do you hate? What do you need?"

"I don't... I've never..." Harry surged forwards, pressed himself against Lucius, and drew that wonderful blond mane forward to fall over his own shoulders. "Help me find out?"

"Ah." Lucius drew back and looked directly into Harry's eyes; his expression was intense, determined. "Clothing first, I think. Undress me."

When Lucius had risen to his feet, Harry released his hands from the back of his neck. He stretched and flexed his fingers before standing up. Pulling his lower lip between his teeth, Harry unfastened the elaborate embroidered frogs that kept Lucius's robes closed at his neck. One, two, three.

Hands trembling with restraint, he combed his fingers through Lucius's hair and swept the strands back over Lucius's shoulders. So soft, Harry thought. The fall of tangled silk was so very different from his own unmanageable mop.

Dragging his focus away from Lucius's hair to his clothes, Harry continued to undo the buttons and frogs that held his robes closed and in place. Lucius's chest was bare under the silk robes. Each time Harry revealed a little more, he nuzzled the skin and rubbed his cheek against the sparse curls between Lucius's pecs.

"Remember the safeword," Harry muttered to himself, and then ran his tongue over a pebbled nipple.

"Only if necessary."

"I'll know, yeah?"

"Oh yes." Lucius stroked a finger down the side of Harry's cheek, encouraging him to move to the other nipple.

"Mmm.... kay." Harry gave a nipple one final suck before moving down Lucius's chest, following the trail of hair. "Might as well have fun, then."

At the touch of Harry's tongue to his belly button, Lucius groaned and dug his hands into Harry's hair. Encouraged by the erection he could feel against his own chest, Harry swirled his tongue around the rim of Lucius's belly button and danced it in and out of the slight indent. Short hairs rasped against his tongue and lips, and Harry had to fight the urge to free his own prick and fist it.

"Enough!" Lucius pushed at his head.

Taking the hint, Harry moved down. He pulled at the ties that held Lucius's thin silk trousers closed and watched them drop to pool around his ankles.

Dense, blond curls surrounded the base of Lucius's prick. Harry raked his fingers through them, over and over, smiling each time Lucius's prick twitched. Then he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, and he looked up to see Lucius's long hair swinging free.

"God," Harry muttered and his patience disintegrated in a wave of need. He tensed his leg muscles and stood up, sliding his hands up Lucius's skin, sweeping off his clothes, and letting them fall to the floor.

When they were both standing, Lucius pulled Harry against him and kissed him. Harry's own robes were removed and then his hands were drawn up. He was encouraged to touch, to massage, to play with Lucius's hair.

"I'm going to fuck you," Lucius said.

"Yes," Harry hissed, fisting his hands in Lucius's hair, inhaling the scent of shampoo and conditioner, rubbing their chests together, and wriggling so he could feel Lucius's body hair against his skin.

"Lie down."

Harry nodded.

"Let go of my hair and lie down on the rug." Lucius's tone turned the words into an order instead of a request.

With a pang of regret, Harry released the strands wrapped around his hands. He dropped to his knees slowly, then lay on his back.

"Hands over your head and clasp them together." When Harry had obeyed, Lucius said, "Spread your legs."

Lucius knelt between Harry's legs and flicked his wand. Harry's hands were held in place by a charm, leaving him unable to touch. Another charm stretched him, sending a shard of wet heat racing up his spine and into his prick. Lucius discarded his wand and made sure that Harry was prepared.

"Good?" Lucius asked and stroked his fingertips over Harry's prostate.

Harry moaned. Then, when Lucius withdrew his fingers, he whimpered and rotated his hips in an attempt to chase after that delicious pressure.

Lifting Harry's legs over his shoulders, Lucius bent over him. Long blond strands swept across Harry's skin, falling into his face and over his chest as Lucius entered him.

"Please." Harry curled his fingers and writhed, trying to reach Lucius's hair.

They moved together. Lucius thrust, twisted, moved, always keeping his hair in contact with Harry's skin. Harry bucked, arched his back, an aching need expanding inside him.

"Touch," Lucius ordered and Harry's hands were freed. He plunged his hands into Lucius's hair, raked the tips of his fingers against the soft scalp, and came with a cry and a shudder that had him bucking upwards, drawing Lucius's prick in deeper and deeper. Until Lucius drove into him one last time, his fingers biting into Harry's hips.

Later, they lay on a rug made more comfortable by a Cushioning Charm. Lucius was on his back, his arms around Harry. Harry had his head on Lucius's shoulder, playing with Lucius's hair, twisting it around his fingers, and plaiting and unplaiting it.

o)*(o

"You remember," Lucius said, interrupting the flow of Harry's memories.

"I could hardly forget."

"I made no assumptions. The choice to return was yours, and you chose not to do so."

Guilt swamped Harry, but he shoved it back. "Life was more complicated than I expected, and you had Narcissa."

"On paper, at least," Lucius said. "We lived separate and apart, as you know, although we did not divorce." He examined his fingernails then turned his curious gaze on Harry. "Was she truly the impediment?"

"No," Harry admitted. "I was caught up in proving myself to the Aurors, and then... then I wasn't sure. What I wanted, what I needed."

"And I didn't approach you again, which made you wonder?"

Harry nodded.

A flick of Lucius's wand Banished the table, leaving the pouch and folder hovering in the air. He stood.

Heart pounding, Harry gripped the hand Lucius offered and rose to his feet.

"If you want me, Harry, I will be here tomorrow and the next day. Waiting for you." Lucius brought Harry's hand to his chest, then released it and strode over to the door.

Harry finally saw the line of Lucius's back and the plait of white-blond hair that reached almost to Lucius's waist. He was licking his lips, fighting the urge to touch that hair, to undo that plait, when Lucius turned around.

"Oh, and Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I haven't untied my hair for anyone but you. Not since that night."

Harry smiled, elation racing through him, as Lucius left the room. Plucking the pouch and folder out of the air, he glanced down at a familiar fleur-de-lis.

o)*(o

The next night, the study was empty when Harry pushed open the door. A single armchair stood in front of the crackling fire.

Squaring his shoulders, Harry walked the few steps to the rug and found his place. He took a deep breath and knelt. Spine straight, the fleur-de-lis centred in front of his knees, he laced his hands behind his neck.

And he waited.