I know the pairing is screwed up. It was a dare, okay? And Lucius gets a little creepy and vampirey with the blood, but the ficlet ran away with me. I had no control over the direction in which it partook. But what the hell, I had fun. I answer to no one on this fic.
Warning: Slash. Which means homosexual activity. Suck it up and deal.
Dedication: To darling Mel, who finally turned 15 and can legally buy Brokeback Mountain on DVD. If she needed to. Because, y'noo, someone might have bought it for her birthday. Maybe.
Arthur was never entirely sure exactly how he ended up in Lucius' bed that night. He remembered that it was frightfully cold due to it being the middle of winter, and the entire school was awash with purest snow. He had been making the treacherous journey up to the owlery in order to send his mother her birthday presents (a new pair of purple suede gloves from him and a delightfully colourful scarf that Molly had kindly knitted). Arthur was so cold that his fingers could barely tie the note to the parcels, and he spent so long fumbling with it that when he had finally managed it his owl snatched it out of his hands and immediately flew off. It was such an impatient bird, and in its haste it had sliced Arthur's finger with its talons, not that he felt it; he was so numb. Still, he wasn't happy about the matter.
"Blasted bird!" he cried, shaking his unscathed fist at the window through which his owl had departed. He looked down mournfully as blood seeped from the wound, trails of crimson stark against his pale skin, and began to suck at it out of habit. His brain was too frozen to think of performing a healing charm.
"Oh dear, Weasley, be careful not to bleed all over the nice stone floor." Someone sneered. Arthur turned round to see Lucius standing behind him, transfixed by his bleeding finger, which he had now taken out of his mouth. The irrational part of his mind told him that the look on the Slytherin's face was almost predator-like.
"What do you want Malfoy?" he sighed.
"Well I did have a letter to send to my father, but I had no idea I'd find such distraction on the way." A calculating smirk spread itself across Lucius' thin lips, and Arthur suddenly had the feeling he needed to be very far away indeed.
"Distraction? What do you mean by that?"
"I mean that you are bleeding all over the place and I feel as Slytherin prefect it is my duty to prevent such matters, and so in dealing with this predicament I am delayed in my sending of this letter."
Arthur was incredibly confused. He only had one tiny little flesh wound and Lucius was making it sound like a threat to the entire wizarding community. Besides, what did he care if Arthur had lost his entire hand? The two had never been anything but enemies, both representing everything the other stood against. This fact alone meant that Arthur surely must be mistaken when he saw what looked like concern in Lucius' eyes.
"Right," he muttered, "Well, I'll be off then. Wouldn't want to bother you with my little bit of bleeding." He squeezed past Lucius and made for the steps down, but felt a strong hand grab hold of his arm and pull him back.
"What in the name of Merlin?"
"Now, now Arthur. As I said, you're bleeding all over the place, and we just can't have that. Now stand still."
Lucius took out his wand and held Arthur's hand in a firm yet surprisingly gentle grip. Panic swept over the Gryffindor as he imagined all the nasty curses Lucius could be about to put on him. He tried to pull away, but Lucius' hold was determined and before he knew it, a spell had been uttered and the wand withdrawn.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Lucius beamed.
"What did you do?" Arthur demanded.
"I only did a simple healing charm. I'd have thought thanks were in order, to be honest."
Arthur looked down and saw, to his disbelief, that Lucius had genuinely healed him.
"But…why?"
Lucius pouted. "I couldn't let such pretty skin be disfigured, could I?"
He took Arthur's hand once again, brought it to his mouth and, grinning wickedly, sucked off the remaining blood trails.
"Get off!" Arthur cried, snatching back his hand and stepping back in horror. Unfortunately, he stepped right back onto a patch of particularly slippery ice and went tumbling down the steps. The world spun furiously for about ten seconds before everything went black and poor Arthur landed in a tangled heap at the bottom.
The next thing Arthur remembered was waking up in the Slytherin common room next to the fire, with a blanket tucked affectionately over him and a hot water bottle under his arm. He was certain that he should be dead or at least in some amount of awful throbbing pain, but a quick patting down revealed that he was miraculously intact, with not even an inch of bruising. He was of course, confused as to what he was doing in the Slytherin common room.
"Oh good, you're awake." Lucius said. Arthur looked around and saw that Lucius was standing behind him. Again.
"What am I doing here? And why aren't I dead?" he mumbled. He desperately tried to block out all thoughts of what Lucius had done to him before he fell.
"You had a nasty fall and you had been out in that snow for a long time, so I took it upon myself to use my exemplary healing skills to patch you up and then thaw you out in here. I don't know the Gryffindor password. Sorry."
"Why not just take me to the hospital wing?"
"Madam Pomfrey is all tied up with the Quidditch injuries. I thought I might spare her the bed." Lucius sighed and sat down next to Arthur, ignoring him as he edged away slightly. "You know that's twice I've healed you and not gotten a word of thanks."
Arthur coughed. "Yes, well, thanks and all, but I should really be getting back to Molly." He emphasised Molly's name to tell Lucius that he had better not try anything because this wizard was straight. Straight I tell you!
"Molly's fine." Lucius dismissed him. He shifted so that he could look straight into his eyes and reached forward and delicately removed the hot water bottle, placing it behind himself, all the while keeping eye-contact. Arthur felt unable to break away form his gaze, despite how much he squirmed under it.
"You know I hate you Arthur." Lucius said, "I hate your obsession with muggles, your upstanding morals, your little eccentricities, your intelligence and your bright and cheery disposition. Your very existence infuriates me and I lay awake at night wishing you out of my life." He smirked. "And I've never met anyone I wanted to shag as much as you. It's a strange little world, isn't it?"
Arthur didn't care if it was a strange little world or not. Lucius Malfoy had just told him he wanted to shag him. This was not good. This was a situation he needed to get out of. Now.
"Now don't even bother running off now Arthur." Lucius cooed. "I want you here. I want to get you out of my bloody system so that we can both go about our lives as normal. And I always get what I want."
It was at the last sentence that Arthur felt the last of his resolve disappear in a frightened squeak. He was experiencing the sheer power and might of a Malfoy's presence at its most intense; all thoughts of resistance and defiance were crushed by the raw determination in Lucius' eyes. Arthur's only notion was for Lucius to be satisfied and then go away, so when the Slytherin reached over and claimed him with a kiss, he let him. And when the kiss grew harder and more demanding, Arthur just let it. It was as though he were in a trance, like one of Dracula's victims. He was powerless to protest when Lucius scooped him up and carried him to a suspiciously empty dorm room, still furiously kissing him as he went. It was all such a tremendous blur.
When he woke up a few hours later in Lucius' bed he couldn't stop shaking. Tremors shook his thin body as he realised what he had done. What was he going to tell Molly? How had he allowed himself to be put into this situation, and why the hell did he acquire the backbone of a flobberworm the second Lucius made eye contact?
"My, my, I have got you where I want you, haven't I Arthur?" whispered Lucius. Arthur jumped. He had no idea the other boy was awake.
"Poor Molly. It'll break her heart if she ever found out."
Arthur paled. Of course Lucius would mention Molly; he wanted to remind Arthur that he had played right into his hands. He was under Lucius' control now, and it was his own darn fault. He gave a very heavy sigh.
"Well done Lucius. You win."
Arthur ignored the chuckling as he got up and reclaimed his clothes. He made sure that his eyes remained perfectly dry right up until he left the Slytherin dungeons, and he waited until he had crept into the safety of his own bed before he let himself think about how sore his arse was. He felt dirty, but he didn't deserve a shower. He wanted to bawl his eyes out, but he didn't deserve the sympathy it would rouse from his insomniac roommates. Most of all, he wanted Molly to hold him and tell him everything was alright, but it was the one thing he deserved the least. And how he hated himself for it.
A/N - (much with the evil cackling)