Entry tags:

harry potter, harry/lucius/snape, lucius malfoy, severus snape

[FIC] Ecstacy: Lucius/Severus/Harry
Originally posted here on 7 September 2007

Title: Ecstacy
Gift for: alexis_sd
Author:
Pairing: Lucius/Severus/Harry
Rated: NC-17 ~ honestly, did you expect anything else?
Warnings: Adult Content, Graphic Sexuality, Non-con, Incest, Chan, Violence Non-con, chan, and incest are not graphic
Summary: When a Ministry official kills his family and then himself, Harry must determine if Snape and Malfoy played a part in the man’s murder.
Beta: mimiheart
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.



The unmistakable sound of retching echoed off the walls of the small room, filling it as much as the smell did. Harry flipped the switch in the loo, turning on the exhaust before placing his hand on Lane’s shoulder.

‘All right there?’

‘No,’ Lane choked. ‘How can you stand it?’

‘It’s just a job,’ Harry said, leaning against the wall of the loo.

He studied the young man who knelt in front of him. His skin was pasty, his black hair slick with sweat, and his eyes were wide with fear and disgust. Shaking his head, Harry rocked forward, using the small glass beside the sink to get the boy some water.

‘Swish it around and spit it out,’ he instructed. ‘You’re not the first this has happened to,’ he added kindly.

‘Not you,’ Lane said bitterly. ‘They told me all about it. You never seem to react.’

‘I do,’ Harry said, his voice soft. He stared at some point above Lane’s head. ‘You have to be able to put this away, or you can’t do this job. I’ve been dealing with things like this for a long time.’

‘He-who-must-not-be-named…’

‘Voldemort.’ Harry’s voice turned harsh and he gave the boy a dark look. ‘His name was Voldemort. He’s bloody dead now; you can say the name, you know.’

‘Did things like this happen with him?’

Harry stared into those horror-stricken eyes and smiled tightly. ‘Worse. Stay here, settle your stomach and get cleaned up.’

He turned and left the loo. The hallway was quiet; most of the Aurors were downstairs. Harry walked along the hall, staring at the pictures. He watched children run in and out of the frames—the mother holding a baby—seeing the family grow as he moved along the grouping, and paused, staring at the family portrait. Three beautiful boys posed beside their mother and, standing next to them, yet somehow apart, the father.

‘Why would you do this?’ Harry whispered, stroking the front of the photo. The father glared at him while the boys looked at him in wonder. Sighing, Harry moved on, heading downstairs.

He moved through the scene with the ease and familiarity of someone who’d done this a million times, quickly locating the Auror in charge. A few short words with him, and Lane would be evaluated, sent to a counsellor, and tested before he could return to this particular job.

‘Beats all, don’t it?’ Gordon said, crossing his arms. He watched as they removed the bodies. The sight of the smallest bundle made his heart twist, but he never showed it.

‘Any idea what made him snap?’ Harry asked.

‘None, so far. Stapleton found a Pensieve, and we’re working through his personal effects. Did you know Osborn?’

‘By reputation only. Did you?’

Gordon nodded. ‘He was active in the Committee for Potions Experiments and Testing. Quiet fellow, kept to himself.’

‘Stereotypical.’

‘Why do you say that, Harry?’

‘Cliché,’ Harry answered, shrugging. ‘Muggles say it’s always the quiet ones.’

He looked around the room, looking for any clue as to who this family was. Nothing was out of the ordinary. A typical family room, the wireless set up in the corner on a hutch, couch set there, rugs on the hardwood floor, photos, portraits and paintings covering the walls. A bookcase sat against one side of the room, and flowers sat in vases here and there. He felt something brush against his leg and looked down, noticing a small, black kitten that meowed pitifully at him. He bent down and picked up the creature, rubbing gently around its ears and stroking it until it purred.

‘Checked the other rooms?’ Gordon asked.

Harry met his eyes evenly. ‘I have. Blood all over the youngest boys’ room, but none in the older boy’s room.’

‘But that’s where his body was found?’ Gordon sighed when Harry nodded. ‘Any sign of what actually killed the boys?’

‘Each one had their throat cut, cleanly. I think they were alive when it happened, or at least the littlest was alive when his brothers were killed.’

‘Why?’

‘There are bloody handprints in his room, very small. And on the father’s clothes.’

‘Right.’ Gordon glanced at the kitten in Harry’s arms. ‘Better take that thing.’

‘I can’t have a kitten,’ Harry protested, but he held the kitten that much tighter.

‘It can’t stay here, so consider it an order, Potter,’ Gordon said. ‘Take the Pensieve back; look at the memories. See what you can find.’

‘Right,’ Harry said, going to find Stapleton.

~*~

Harry pulled out of the latest memory, rolling his neck and shoulders, trying anything to relieve tension. His hand shook just the slightest as he picked up the next bottle and forced himself to pour the silver liquid into the bowl. Taking a deep breath, he shoved his face into the mixture and began to fall.

The youngest son’s bedroom this time. Harry grimaced, wanting to leave now. He’d watched as Osborn had started with his oldest son, replacing him with the middle as he grew older, and now…

He watched the little boy curled up on his bed, and his heart ached for him. He knew from viewing these memories what that creaking door meant, what that looming shadow brought. He stayed, though, through the tears and cries, through the pain, and watched, somehow almost as sickened by the tender kiss the man gave his son as he had been by the brutal rape that had happened.

His skin crawled when he pulled out of that memory and bile rose in his throat. He finished adding the latest notes to his report and glanced at the nearby table, looking at the remaining bottles in distaste. He would go through each of them—that was his job—but he couldn’t do it tonight. He’d had all he could take tonight. He felt dirty, unclean, and unsettled.

He gathered the kitten from the box he’d put it in and, after checking out with his supervisor, he left for home.

~*~

Pushing his damp hair off his forehead, Harry sighed as he sank onto the couch in his living room. He’d been home for an hour now, and had easily settled the kitten into its new home. A shower had been next on his list, but he still didn’t feel clean.

He had the telly on—background noise was all it really was—and stretched out on his couch, locking his fingers behind his head as he stared at his ceiling. It was calming, this low babble of noise—the soft ticking of his clock, the rambling of the telly—and somewhere, an owl hooted outside. Harry closed his eyes, allowing the peace of his surroundings to sink into his bones. He needed peace.

The sharp trilling of the phone jolted him awake, and he sat up, heart pounding, hand on his wand as he looked around the room. Taking a few deep breaths, he relaxed, waiting for the answerphone to pick up.

‘The Chosen One is not available at this time. Please leave your name, phone number, the name of the Dark Lord you wish to destroy, how much you’re willing to pay in homage, and he’ll consider your request.’

‘Harry? Harry!’ Ron sighed into the phone. ‘I guess you’re not in. Look, I know something happened today. The Ministry is in an uproar. I don’t suppose you’d talk to me about it? It can be off the record, you know. I’m worried about you, and Hermione says…’

Harry tuned out at that point, resolving to listen to the message fully in the morning. If Ron was calling tonight, Hermione would be at his desk waiting for him, wanting to know if he was all right and what she could do to help. Harry sighed deeply. The problem was that Hermione couldn’t help. Standing up, he lurched into his bedroom, determined to try to get some decent sleep for once.

~*~

Paperwork made the world go round. Of this, Harry was certain. He tossed the file on his desk, resting his elbows on the wood and rubbing his face, letting out a soft groan.

‘Harry?’

‘Tonks.’ Harry managed a smile for her, sitting up and turning to face her.

‘Kingsley sent your report on. Scrimgeour wants you to question some wizards.’

‘Of course he does. Because no one else could possibly do it.’ He sighed heavily.

‘Oh, you’ll love this,’ Tonks said, chuckling. ‘Look at the list of people you have to question.’

Harry started laughing once he saw the list. He shook his head, looking up at Tonks, who was still grinning at him.

‘Figures it would be Snape and Malfoy. Which Malfoy?’

‘Either. We’re not sure which one Osborn visited. We know that Snape was crafting a potion for the Malfoys and that Osborn was monitoring it, to ensure it wasn’t Dark in nature.’

‘Malfoy, I can see, but Snape? Aren’t we past the whole ‘he’s evil’ bit?’ Harry frowned, standing up and grabbing his jacket.

‘Harry, there will always be someone who will believe he was a traitor.’

‘He was. But he came through for me in the end, and that’s what’s important. He never did anything overtly evil or Dark.’

‘That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the capacity,’ Tonks argued.

‘Oh, he’s got the capacity,’ Harry agreed. He began to walk towards the lift, Tonks trailing behind him. ‘He’s the nastiest bastard I’ve ever had to deal with. But he’s never once betrayed me, and that’s not something I can just forget.’

‘You trust him?’

‘I don’t like him,’ Harry emphasised, turning to face Tonks. He pushed the button and stepped into the lift, speaking just before the door closed, ‘But I do trust him.’

~*~

Harry breathed shallowly as he walked along the street, trying to ignore the stench that rose from the river. He walked along the row, passing the dark and dismal brick buildings, until he reached the one at the end.

Knocking on the door, he shifted, impatient to be done with this. He didn’t like Snape, as he’d told Tonks, but it was more than that. The man made him decidedly uneasy. Unnerved him, even, if he were honest with himself. It was more than the intimidation that he’d felt when he was younger, and his anger and hatred had long ago transmuted into something else. A begrudged respect, and a recognition that no matter how powerful Harry was, no matter what he could do, Snape could still get the better of him and had always been able to.

The door opened a crack and Harry smirked at the beetle-black eye that peered at him. They stood for a few moments, Snape glaring at Harry through the thin opening, Harry smirking and waiting patiently. Finally, sighing so heavily that Harry feared he’d cave his chest in, Snape opened the door just barely enough for Harry to squeeze through.

The sitting room looked the same as Harry remembered from his last visit here. Books were still piled everywhere; the chair Snape favoured sat next to a rickety table loaded with them. The house smelled musty; Harry sneezed harshly as he moved books off a small stool so he could at least sit.

‘I assume you have a reason for intruding on my privacy, Potter?’

‘The Ministry sent me.’

Snape’s mouth curled in a sneer and his eyebrow rose as he stared at Harry, waiting for him to continue. When Harry simply smiled, looking innocently at him, he snarled.

‘Well?’

‘You’re going to tell me that you don’t know why?’ Harry challenged. He watched Snape’s face, but as usual, he couldn’t tell what the man was thinking.

‘I’ve no desire to play games with you, boy.’

‘That’s no fun,’ Harry taunted. When Snape’s expression darkened, he shook his head. ‘A wizard in the Ministry has committed suicide, and he’s killed his wife and children as well.’

‘What does that have to do with me?’

‘The last person he had contact with was you, and one of the Malfoys.’

‘Just one?’ Snape asked, his voice slippery smooth.

‘I was hoping you’d tell me,’ Harry countered.

‘Who?’

‘Osborn.’

Snape frowned and nodded, staring off to the side. Harry waited, as patiently as he could, attempting to not fidget. He could sense Snape was mulling over a decision. It was strange, the kinship he felt with this man. If either were asked, they’d say they abhorred the other, but both knew each other’s moods, knew when to push, and when to wait. War made that intimate knowledge necessary, and Harry found himself oddly grateful for it. There was at least one person in his world who accepted him at face value, even when it wasn’t the best face he could present, and that was something he prized.

‘I’m afraid I can’t help you,’ Snape finally said, turning the full force of his gaze on Harry.

‘Really?’ Harry asked dryly, letting his own eyebrow climb as he gave Snape a doubtful look.

‘Osborn was monitoring the development of my latest potion. He made quite the pest of himself, but the last time I saw him was well over a week ago. At that time, he was his usual officious, irritating self.’

‘And Malfoy? How does he, whichever one it is, factor into this?’

‘Will you go to the Malfoy mansion and speak to him as well?’ Snape asked, his voice deceptively bland. Bland enough that Harry felt a trickle of disquiet shiver down his spine.

‘I had planned on it, yes,’ Harry said slowly.

‘Then I see no reason for me to enlighten you. You may question the Malfoys, should you see fit to. And now, Potter,’ Snape stood, moving to his door, ‘I must bid you good day.’

‘Damn, Snape, do you really think you’re going to get rid of me so easily?’

‘And do you, Potter, think I will just reveal whatever you wish, so easily?’ Snape mocked Harry, lifting his chin challengingly.

Harry ran his hand through his hair, almost growling in irritation. ‘Why does it always have to be so damn difficult with you?’

‘I’m an old man, Potter. You must allow me my amusements.’

Harry laughed despite his frustration. He held up his hand in mock surrender. ‘All right, I’ll go to Malfoy, since that’s where you obviously want me to go. Will you be there?’ he asked quietly.

‘Would it matter?’ Snape asked, his voice deceptively calm, his expression blank.

‘Yeah,’ Harry admitted, meeting his gaze head on, allowing him to see and feel the truth behind the statement. ‘I trust you.’

Snape stepped close to Harry, close enough that they were almost nose-to-nose. Harry drew in a sudden breath, his hands curling into fists as he fought to stay in place, to not back up.

‘Do you, Potter? Do you trust me to save you?’

‘Yes,’ Harry whispered, wondering what game Snape was playing at.

Snape stared at him, and Harry suddenly felt very warm, and very much exposed, which was startling, to say the least. He was used to being on even footing with Snape now that he was an adult, but having him this close and staring at him so intently, Harry felt fourteen again, unsure and unsteady.

‘You’d best leave, if you wish to catch him at home,’ Snape said, stepping away, breaking the illusion. Harry drew in a deep, shuddering breath and nodded, turning away.

‘Snape?’

‘What is it now, Potter?’

‘Will you?’

‘Will I what?’

‘Save me.’

‘Either that or damn you, Potter.’

Harry could only stare at his retreating back as Snape left the room. Feeling more unsettled than he could remember being in a long time, Harry left Snape’s house, preparing to Apparate to Wiltshire.

~*~

‘Well, that was a bloody waste of time,’ Harry said, slouching in his chair at his desk. Tonks perched on the edge of his desk and gave him a sympathetic look.

‘Dead ends?’

‘Snape wasn’t, not really. I know he was making something for Malfoy, and I did find out it was Lucius, but not what, exactly, and I didn’t get a chance to talk to Lucius. Draco wouldn’t even let me into the mansion, and I don’t exactly have the authority to go barging in there.’

‘Even knowing that they were the last to be involved with Osborn?’

‘Even then. Tonks, who’s to say that they had anything to do with it?’

‘Explain?’

Harry sighed, leaning back and rubbing the back of his neck. ‘Osborn was sick. Twisted. What I’ve seen in those memories…’ His voice trailed off, faltering.

Tonks gave him a moment, but when it looked as if he wouldn’t continue, she touched him gently on the arm. He jerked forward, staring at her with wide eyes before coming to himself.

‘Sorry.’

‘Understandable, Harry,’ she said gently.

‘Yeah, anyway, what if Osborn acted completely on his own? Any man that could do that to his own children could easily murder them.’

‘But what would be the motivation, Harry? Wouldn’t he want to keep them where he had control? Where he could get them; do what he wanted to them?’

‘That’s just it, Tonks. The oldest was, what, fifteen? The next was twelve, I think.’

‘And the youngest, ten…’

‘And just about to leave for Hogwarts,’ Harry interrupted. ‘Taking him away from his father, and out of his control.’

‘But would that be enough to drive him to killing his entire family? And then himself?’

‘Who’s to know?’ Harry asked, exasperated. ‘Osborn killed his family. He killed himself. Case closed.’

‘What if he didn’t kill his family?’

‘Come on, all the evidence…’

‘Is circumstantial,’ Tonks interrupted, ‘and you have two former Death Eaters linked to the suspect.’

‘I already told you I trust Snape…’

‘You do,’ Tonks interrupted again. ‘But the average wizard? Not so much.’

‘I’ll have to prove them innocent.’

‘If you don’t, they could be brought up on charges. You know how easily that could happen.’

Harry pushed his fringe off his forehead, rubbing the skin. He could feel a headache brewing. ‘What would they gain by his death, though? What possible reason could they have for wanting him dead?’

‘The potion?’

‘Maybe he discovered it was Dark, and planned to report on it?’ Harry mused. ‘But that wouldn’t truly help them, murdering him, because he’d have left notes behind that Snape wouldn’t have access to. The next Ministry official would simply pick up where he left off.’

‘Have you seen his notes?’ Tonks asked.

‘No, I haven’t. But I’m going to.’

‘And I’m going home,’ Tonks said, sliding off Harry’s desk.

‘Hmmm, say hello to Remus for me, would you?’

‘You could yourself, if you’d ever visit,’ Tonks chided, punching Harry lightly on the arm.

‘No time,’ Harry answered. Tonks glared at him, and he sighed. ‘Soon, I promise?’

‘It better be. Remus misses you.’

‘All right, all right.’ Harry laughed, standing up. ‘Go tell that bloke of yours I’ll visit this weekend.’

‘We’ll hold you to that,’ Tonks promised before walking away.

Harry set out for Osborn’s office. As a division of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, it was on the third level, which meant riding in the lift. He ducked in, narrowly avoiding being struck in the head by a flying bit of paper, and kept to himself as he rode it.

Stepping out into the third level, he walked down the hall, reading the small signs on the doors until he came to the one he wanted. The wooden door had been polished until it shone, reflecting Harry’s image back at him. The small brass plate was inscribed with the name of the department, ‘Committee for Potions Experiments and Testing’. Harry knocked and waited, as patiently as he could.

He fidgeted, tapping his foot impatiently, but no one answered his knock. Reaching out, he tried the doorknob, only slightly surprised when it opened easily. Stepping inside, he shut the door behind him.

Rows of desks sat neatly in two lines. Most had some evidence of use about them, papers here or there, a cup resting on a blotter, quills and inkwells set out. Only one was pristine, nothing on it at all to suggest anyone worked there.

That was the one Harry went to first. The dark top was scarred and battered, pits dug into the surface, exposing the pale wood under the stain. Harry pulled out the chair and sat in it, turning to face the desk. He opened drawers, finding them all empty. There was nothing in the desk, nothing on it.

‘Can I help you?’

Harry looked up at the older wizard who stared at him questioningly. ‘I’m Auror Potter. I’m investigating Mr Osborn’s death.’

‘Terrible thing, that, just terrible.’ The wizard shook his head, then stepped forward, lowering his voice. ‘Is it true, what they say? Did he truly kill his family, then himself?’

‘That’s what we’re trying to find out,’ Harry said, smiling. ‘Could you tell me which one was his desk?’

‘Why, that very one,’ the wizard said. ‘Been cleaned out already, of course.’

‘By who?’

‘The Department Head.’

‘What happened to his notes, his work? I’d like to look them over.’

‘Oh, those were put over here.’

Harry stood, following the old man over to one of the desks. The man sat down, reaching under his desk and pulling out a box. ‘Everything he had in his desk is in here. I’m supposed to go through it. That’s why I’m working late.’

‘I’d like to have it first,’ Harry said. He bent and picked up the box, smiling soothingly when the man sputtered in protest. ‘Just tell your Head that Harry Potter took it, and I’m sure you’ll be in no trouble at all. I’ll bring this back just as soon as I’m finished.’

‘Very well. I suppose this means I can go home.’

‘Or stop by the Leaky,’ Harry said, smirking.

‘Indeed, my boy. I think you have a wonderful idea there.’

‘What I have,’ Harry thought, as he stepped into the lift to go back to his office, ‘is an entire night’s work ahead of me.’

~*~

Harry took a sip of his coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste. His desk was strewn with papers—Osborn’s notes. The man was had a pedantic style of writing, and Harry was having a bloody time paying attention. Even forcing himself, he was drifting off, losing focus. Not that there was that much to focus on. Although his reports were detailed, far too detailed, there was nothing to implicate Snape or Malfoy in any illegality. Harry couldn’t even find a mention of what the blasted potion was supposed to do. He only knew that Snape was in the preliminary stages of brewing it, which meant researching which ingredients would react together to elicit the desired response.

He glanced at his clock and frowned at the time, just past nine. Snorting softly to himself, he shook his head. He had to find out what, exactly, was going on, and there was only one way to do that.

He grabbed his jacket, slipping it on as he headed for the lift. Apparating once he was on the main level, he landed on a quiet, broad lane, lined by old oak trees. The wrought iron gate in front of him was locked, but that wasn’t really a deterrent. Harry opened it easily, walking up the path to the main door of the mansion.

‘Welcome, Potter.’

He tried to conceal the fact that he jumped in surprise, but the smirk on Lucius’ face let Harry know he hadn’t succeeded. Pasting a smile on his face, he approached the man, who slowly walked out of the shadows to greet him.

‘You certainly know how to make an entrance, Malfoy,’ Harry said.

‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Lucius replied, inclining his head. ‘My son tells me you stopped by earlier.’

‘I need to speak to you.’

‘Persistent, aren’t you?’

‘Why, yes, I am,’ Harry answered, grinning.

‘Far be it from me to deny you.’ Lucius turned the handle on his front door, throwing it open wide, and bowing slightly to Harry. ‘Welcome, Mr Potter, to my home.’

Harry shivered slightly as he passed by Lucius. The sound of the heavy oaken door slamming shut behind him sounded almost ominous, a fancy that Harry tried to shake off.

‘May I offer you some refreshment?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Now, Potter, you wouldn’t be so churlish as to refuse my hospitality?’

A house-elf appeared, bearing a tray with two wine glasses. Lucius gestured to it, indicating that Harry should be the first to take one. Giving him a wary look, Harry did, smiling at the house-elf in thanks. He lifted the glass and sipped the wine, completely unsurprised at how good it was.

‘It is to your satisfaction, then?’

‘I’m not the most knowledgeable about wines, but I know it’s good,’ Harry said. ‘But I’m not here to discuss wine, Malfoy.’

‘Lucius.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Call me Lucius, Harry.’

‘Why in the world would I?’

‘Why indeed.’

Lucius turned and walked out of the foyer, leaving Harry to choose whether to follow him or stay behind. Harry, of course, followed. Panelled doors were folded open, leading into a sitting room. Lucius gracefully sat in an overstuffed chair, placing his wine glass on a coaster on the table next to him.

‘I believe you have some questions for me?’ he asked, waving his hand at the couch facing him.

Harry sat down, cradling his glass in his hands. He met Lucius’ gaze evenly. ‘I’m investigating the death of a member of the Ministry. His last known contact was with you and Snape.’

‘Severus’ potion, I gather?’

‘He was overseeing the development of it. Osborn.’

‘Pity what happened to him,’ Lucius said smoothly.

‘More like his family,’ Harry said, lifting his glass and draining it. He set it gently on the floor and leaned forward. ‘What is the potion, Malfoy?’

‘Lucius.’

‘I’m not calling you…’

‘I shall not answer until you do,’ Lucius interrupted, smiling.

Harry sighed. ‘Lucius,’ he rolled his eyes, ‘what does the potion do?’

‘Why, Harry, I was hoping you could tell me.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘You just drank it. Tell me, what do you feel right now?’

‘I’ve no time for your bloody games.’ Harry stood, or attempted to. The room swam in his vision and he put his hand to his head, falling back on the couch. He felt both hot and cold at the same time and his heart started racing. ‘What’s happening to me?’

‘I promise you, Harry, you will enjoy yourself.’

Harry was helpless to resist as Lucius scooped him up into his arms. All he could see were swirling colours, and his entire focus was dominated by the scent of Lucius as the man held him tightly. A sense of euphoria washed over him, and even as he wondered what was happening, he found himself snuggling against Lucius’ chest.

He whimpered when Lucius settled with him, nestling Harry in his lap as he sat back in his chair. Some part of Harry’s mind was screaming at him, telling him to stop, get out, not this, but Harry couldn’t fight the flare of desire that made his blood sing, made him want to be touched, made him want to touch and taste and feel.

Cool air, sudden against his skin, caused him to arch up, moaning. He heard a deep chuckle and turned towards the noise, the feel of heated skin against his own pulling a deep groan from him.

‘Had I known you would respond so well, I’d have done this years ago, Harry,’ Lucius said, bending his head to lick a path up Harry’s neck. ‘What do you want?’

‘You, please, want you,’ Harry answered. He wound his arms around Lucius’ neck, hooking his leg about his waist and rubbing against him.

Lucius kissed him, a light brush of lips that wasn’t enough for Harry. He slid his hand in Lucius’ hair, holding his head still as he slid his tongue in the man’s mouth, licking every surface he could. Lucius pulled away, lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss, and Harry growled, scrambling to follow him.

Lucius gripped his hands, pinning them behind Harry as he nipped at his neck, licking along his collarbone before moving down his chest. Harry rocked forward, soft sounds escaping as their cocks rubbed together, as a warm tongue lapped at his nipples and teeth gently tugged.

Harry had no idea how to fight these feelings; he doubted he could. He stiffened when he felt a finger brush against his opening, but was soon bearing down on the intrusion, begging for more.

Lucius kissed him as he pushed inside, delighted at how tight Harry was. It had been a long time since he’d taken a man, and he found he quite missed the sensation.

‘Lucius!’

Lucius paused, completely unconcerned about his appearance as he looked over Harry’s shoulder at Severus.

‘Yes?’

Harry whined at the interruption and rocked in Lucius’ lap, nuzzling his neck and licking, trying to get him to move.

‘What have you done?’

‘Your potion is marvellous, Severus. It has exceeded my expectations.’ At Severus’ dark look, Lucius laughed. ‘Do stop being so wearisome. Tell me you’ve never wanted to taste this.’

Lucius held Severus’ gaze as he turned Harry’s head, marking his neck. Harry moaned, struggling to get closer, to get some friction, anything at all. Lucius smirked against Harry’s skin at the sharp intake of breath from Severus; he knew he had his man now. He watched as Severus stripped quickly, moving over to join them.

‘I’ll Obliviate him,’ Severus said, lifting Harry slightly.

Both men gasped as he pushed inside, and Harry cried out, his fingers digging into Lucius’ arms. He arched his back, leaning his head against Severus’ shoulder and turning his face, begging for and receiving a kiss, swallowing as a rush of fluid entered his mouth.

‘As you wish,’ Lucius said breathily.

Harry had never felt like this before, pressed between the two men as he was. Severus kissed him ruthlessly while Lucius sucked on his nipple, pinching the other with one hand as his other stroked Harry’s cock. He’d never been so full in his life, and as both men rocked inside him, they managed to brush his prostate quite frequently. He moaned desperately into Severus’ mouth, wanting, needing, urgent in his desire.

Pleasure coiled within, so powerful it was almost pain and Harry rocked back, violently slamming into Severus—who held him tightly—as he came, shooting his come over Lucius and himself. He slumped against Severus, his breath coming in short, harsh gasps, that distasteful sensation of liquid leaking out, running down his legs, making him shudder.

He groaned softly when Severus pulled free, allowing him to brace him as Lucius also pulled free. Severus turned Harry in his arms, giving Lucius a pointed look. Looking much put upon, Lucius waved his wand, cleaning Harry up and restoring his clothing.

‘What—why—how could you?’ Harry asked, eyes glued to Severus’ chest. His cheeks flamed and he didn’t think he’d ever been so furious, so embarrassed in his life.

‘I did warn you, Harry.’

‘Save me or damn me. So which was it, Severus?’ Harry dared to lift his gaze, staring into Severus’.

‘Severus, I’m disappointed in you,’ Lucius said, his tone mildly rebuking. ‘When did you give him the antidote?’

‘The first kiss,’ Harry said.

‘And yet, Harry, you continued. You could have protested then.’

Harry closed his eyes against that velvet voice, shame painting his cheeks a brighter red. Yes, he could have protested, but he had been caught up in the pleasure, and had chosen not to.

‘Osborn…’

‘We had nothing to do with that,’ Lucius said, walking to Harry’s side, sliding his hand in the boy’s unruly hair. ‘We will submit to questioning, by you only, but Osborn acted completely on his own. The man was foul, and beyond redemption, and apparently, he realised it.’ His expression echoed the disgust in his voice.

‘Severus?’

‘I shall take him home, now, Lucius.’

‘Will you visit again, Harry?’ Lucius pressed, cupping Harry’s nape.

‘I…I don’t know,’ Harry answered.

‘Lucius, let him be.’

‘You were always too attached, Severus.’ He turned away, sitting in his chair with a flourish. ‘Take the brat home, and then return here, Severus. We still have…’ his gaze travelled up and down Severus’ form, ‘…matters to discuss.’

‘As you wish,’ Severus said, inclining his head.

He pulled Harry into his arms and with a whispered warning, they were gone. Harry didn’t bother to wonder how Severus was able to Apparate into his flat. Right now, that was the least of his worries.

‘I won’t let you Obliviate me,’ Harry said, pushing away from Severus.

‘I did not truly intend to.’

Severus studied Harry, hesitantly reaching a hand out to him. Harry stayed perfectly still, allowing the soft caress along his cheek, wondering why he craved it. A side effect of the potion, maybe?

‘Osborn killed his children. He was an incestuous paedophile with obsessive tendencies. He was beyond abominable, a disgusting waste of flesh. As Lucius stated, he acted on his own.’

‘The children were moving beyond his control.’

‘More than that, his wife was planning to leave, and expose him. She’d just found out what was going on. He’d had her under his control all along, using potions.’

‘How do you know?’ Harry asked.

‘She was a former student, and one of my Slytherins. The interactions I had with him while developing my potion led to my presence in his home, and that’s when I learned of the situation.’

‘And you didn’t think to call the Aurors?’ Harry accused, glaring at Severus.

‘I did, Harry,’ Severus countered harshly. ‘And as your Ministry dawdled, deciding whether to trust the word of a known Death Eater, Osborn slowly and methodically killed his entire family.’

‘Osborn killed his family. He killed himself. Case closed.’ Harry sighed. At Severus’ questioning look, he explained, ‘That’s what I told Tonks, yesterday. I guess it’s true.’

‘I would say so.’

An awkward silence descended, and Harry fidgeted. The desire to touch Severus was almost overwhelming, and that made him decidedly uncomfortable.

‘It will wear off fully in time,’ Severus said, pulling Harry close. Harry slid his hands under Severus’ cloak, surrendering to his kiss. Severus reluctantly released him, giving him a gentle shove away. ‘I must go back to Lucius.’

‘And then?’

‘What more would you wish, Harry?’ Severus asked.

‘Bloody hell, I don’t know. Dinner, a film, a shag?’

Severus laughed as he Apparated away, leaving Harry wishing there’d been a more…definite end to the encounter. Harry turned around, heading into his kitchen. He had some Firewhisky in his cabinet, and he intended to indulge.

He poured a glassful and wandered back into his living room, pausing as he noticed a brownish spot on his floor. Kneeling down, he cast a spell, identifying blood. A few small, black hairs were also littered among the brown flakes. Harry sighed, trying to decide what to do when he realised that this was the exact spot Severus had stood.

~*~

‘Rather open and shut, wouldn’t you say?’ Gordon said, giving Harry a rueful smile. ‘I must say, I’m rather glad neither Malfoy nor Snape were involved. That is not a situation I’d want to deal with.’ Gordon glanced down at the leave request on his desk and sighed. ‘I’d hoped you’d take some time off, Harry. Of course this is approved.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Are you going on holiday? Somewhere special, maybe?’

‘No, not particularly. Just want to catch up with old friends,’ Harry said, thinking of his appointment to meet Severus later. He was relieved that Gordon had accepted his report at face value. What Severus had done was against the law, but it was justice, as far as Harry was concerned.

‘Good,’ Gordon said, smiling as he escorted Harry from his office. ‘Enjoy yourself.’

‘Oh, I have no doubt about that,’ Harry said, returning Gordon’s smile.