Chapter Two
It takes Harry close to four days to make up his mind. He's selfish—he can't let it get out that he has roughed up criminals. He hasn't done anything like that for years, but during the first years of his career, it had happened a few times. He doesn't feel good about it, but he can't change it now. If Malfoy can make it stay hidden, he certainly won't mind it.
He sends an owl to Malfoy, requesting to meet him in a more private place than the Ministry lift, but he doesn't expect to find Lucius behind his door a few hours later. Harry doesn't even want to know how Lucius found him but there he is. When Harry finally gets a decent shirt over his head and manages to throw some stuff into the laundry basket, Lucius is already in the sitting room with a drink in hand.
The house-elf is a new one. Kreacher had died a few years back and Harry had tried to find a competent elf to replace him. Now he has a diligent elf that seems happy to serve Malfoy a bloody drink. Lucius is sitting on the sofa as if he owns the piece of furniture. Perhaps even the room itself.
Harry clears his throat and says, "I was actually talking about meeting in some random pub or something."
"Nonsense." Lucius shifts in the seat and goes on, "You have made your choice."
"Yeah," Harry scratches his neck and rubs his arms. He feels exposed in front of Lucius even though it is his home and he should not feel so uncomfortable.
The man pulls out a rather thick folder from his robe and sets in his lap. He taps it with his finger and says, "Crusher has been rather busy these few past months. As you can see, I have already paid the tenacious Miss Crusher a visit and she was most accommodating when she handed me this dossier that she has on you and a number of other Aurors in your department. Of course, she does not remember any of it."
"That's real classy, Lucius."
"And most efficient," the blond says with a smile. He doesn't correct Harry for using his name as if the younger wizard was given permission. "Everything is in here and it is yours. All I require is an oath in which you give me your word that you will support Astoria when the time comes."
Harry picks up the folder and he is shocked by the bulk. Lucius really has managed to get everything from Crusher. "All right. I'll make the oath." Harry looks around for his wand and finds it on the bookshelf. He has made oaths before and easily casts the binding spells. Lucius seems content with a standard oath.
Then the wizard stands and Harry's instincts awaken from their dormant state. As Malfoy starts walking closer, Harry struggles to stay where he is. Malfoy might attempt something and Harry is glad he still has his wand. However, no curse comes. As a startling alternative, Lucius grips the waistband of Harry's jeans and pulls him closer. Nimble fingers make quick work of the little button and zipper and before Harry can even begin to comprehend what is happening, Lucius yanks the wizard's shirt over his head.
"What are you doing?" Harry manages to get out, both shocked and unbelievably aroused.
Lucius gives him a curious look. "Did you really think I came all this way just to hand you this interesting dossier?"
"What makes you think I'm interested in you?" Harry asks although he can't deny that he is very much paying attention to the man. Anyone with a pulse would be interested in Lucius Malfoy and Harry is no different in that regard.
Lucius responds to Harry's inquiry by sliding his hand inside Harry's pants, wrapping his fingers around Harry's hardening cock that definitely likes the attention. The older wizard leans in and asks, "Are you going to deny it?"
"Is there a fucking point to it when you literally have me by the balls?" Harry retorts, trying to bite back a desperate moan that's already halfway in his throat. Lucius has him trapped in the most pleasurable of ways. "It's a bit of surprise, to be honest."
Lucius chuckles. He doesn't look anything but amused when he pulls Harry into a kiss by pure magnetism. The younger one gives into it without any sort of fight at all. Malfoy is by no means a timid kisser and Harry willingly opens up to let the blond's tongue in. Harry protests with a slight grumble and almost brings his teeth down in Lucius' tongue when the man swipes his thumb over the head of Harry's prick.
"Where's your bedroom?" Lucius questions after ending the kiss. Harry stares and then stares some more. "Potter, it was an easy enough question."
"Yeah, I heard you just fine, but—you can't just come here and seduce me and expect me to just go along with it." Harry starts ranting and steps away from Lucius. He feels like an idiot, standing in the middle of the room without his shirt and his cock more or less hanging out. "What do you want from me?"
Lucius unclasps his robe and throws it on the sofa. For a moment, he considers the possibility of Potter's refusal but shrugs it off and says, "Surely, I do not have to spell it out for you, Potter."
"I think you do because I'm having trouble understanding." Harry crosses his arms over his chest and swallows hard as Lucius approaches him again with a greedy look in his eyes.
"Your insecurity is endearing." Lucius chuckles. "It's fairly simple, Harry—I want you to fuck me."
Harry's head is spinning. He feels excited and apprehensive and guilty for wanting it, but he doesn't have enough graciousness to decline nor can he muster enough altruism to think about anything other than being buried inside Lucius. He doesn't have to turn him down. He doesn't have to consider Hermione's feeling or Ron's feelings. He most certainly won't consider Ginny's feelings. She can have Zabini and stuff it because Lucius is offering up his arse for nothing and Harry isn't going to think about it. He doesn't have to because he already knows that he's going to do it.
"Yeah, okay," Harry says. "Bedroom is upstairs."
The bedroom is spacious and takes up the entire upper floor. Harry never had nice things growing up but he does now. The bed itself is a work of art; colossal in size and luxurious in details. Lucius isn't interested in admiring the wallpaper or the nice-looking bedside tables and Harry can't find a reason to complain as he finds Lucius undressing. It's hasty but still elegant; Lucius isn't the type to leave his clothes in a heap on the floor.
Without knowing, Harry would probably say that Malfoy is in his late thirties. There's definitely a secret to his sustained vitality and exquisiteness but Harry doesn't care to hear it at the moment because Lucius is shoving him on the bed. Pushing his jeans and pants down, Harry yanks them off and chucks them over his shoulder.
...
(Beginning of some lovely slash, if I do say so myself. Scroll over it if you must)
The dark-haired wizard sits on the bed as Lucius crawls on top of him, knees astride Harry's thighs and seals his mouth at the juncture of Harry's shoulder and neck. A low sound breaks free from Harry's throat and he fists his hand into the soft hair. The other hand slides to Lucius' hip and stays there for a moment.
Harry feels his cock twitching, hardening once more after temporarily waning during his little tirade. His heart is racing and he doesn't even know why. He's no virgin and it is nothing new for him, but Lucius is a being from another world—he's proud and beautiful and he makes Harry's blood boil with anger and arousal. Lucius is bold, pushy even, but it only makes Harry feel a surge of excitement in his gut.
"Fuck, stop—" Harry gasps. "It's going to be over too soon if you don't stop."
"Can't have that," Lucius chuckles against Harry's neck and pushes him on his back. He remains astride the wizard and runs his fingers down from the hollow of Harry's throat to his stomach which ripples with tension under the touch.
Harry drives his hips up as Lucius grinds down on the wizard's groin. "You said something about fucking, Lucius—are you all mouth and no trousers?"
"I'm inspecting the young buck I have paid for."
"This wasn't exactly part of our deal. You did something for me and I gave you my word in an oath that I will do something for you," Harry tells the man with a raised brow.
"Consider this as an additional benefit," Lucius says and reaches behind. He curls his fingers around Harry's cock and keeps it steady as he sinks down on it with one swift move that has Harry drawing in a sharp breath. It's tight and hot and glorious—Harry wants to cry. His fingers twist into the sheets and he looks at the wizard sitting on his hard cock. The sight itself is enough to make a religious man out of him, with his legs straining and hair falling over his shoulder, Lucius rocks back and forth. The wizard's own member is hard and jutting out from an almost transparent patch of neatly trimmed pubic hair with a pearl of pre-come glistening on the head.
Harry thrusts up two or three times and grins when Lucius whimpers and leans forward. He plants his hands on either side of Harry's head, the ends of his hair tickling the wizard's neck. The new position gives Harry the right angle to hit the blond's prostate with each stab of his cock and it has Lucius keening.
Malfoy's skin looks golden in the sunlight, the silver of his eyes glinting like liquid mercury and the intensity in his gaze knocks the air out of Harry's lungs without anyone laying a hand on him. There is this animalistic urge in his bones and Harry grabs Lucius around the middle, digging his fingers into the smooth porcelain flesh and flips Lucius on the bed under him. He pulls out of the pliant body, painting a trail of pre-come on Lucius' thigh as he sits back on his heels and admires his bed partner. Hooking his arms under the man's knees, Harry yanks Lucius closer, slender legs winding around Harry's waist and the younger wizard smirks and drives himself back inside.
Harry likes to think of himself as hard-working, so he gets to work to earn his reward in the end. He lets Lucius touch him—eager hands pawing at Harry's sides—and rolls his hips, burying his cock as deep as it can go.
Harry asks, voice hoarse from the exercise, "Is this what you had in mind when you came here?" He deems it essential to get his question across with a particularly precise and firm thrust that has the other man hissing out an exquisite noise that has Harry clenching his teeth. He doesn't want to finish too quickly and seem like an incompetent lover.
Lucius tilts his head up and the look on his face is ravenous. He can't afford to speak because he fears that he might scream. Potter's whole body is shaking with the force of their combined lust and he no longer resembles the boy Lucius had met all those years ago. There is a fierceness about him as he snaps his hips in a steady, almost painful tempo. Potter looks angry.
Anger is a straightforward emotion but Potter manages to make it something else entirely. He looks like he wants to grab a pillow and smother the wizard he's fucking—and he might do it too—but Lucius hardly cares. He's too hard, too overwrought, too vulnerable for such thoughts. Harry has him trapped in every way and Lucius has not considered being the prey to Harry's predator.
The situation is strange and Lucius does not enjoy being weak—therefore, the situation needs to change. He needs to be able to control Harry and at the moment, Harry has all the power.
"Did you really think that I'd just let you walk all over me, Lucius?" Harry chuckles and wrings another pitiable moan from the back of the blond's throat when he buries himself to the hilt again. "You came prepared, I'll give you that."
It does make Lucius wonder if perhaps he has miscalculated but oddly enough, he doesn't mind. He laughs. "Perhaps there is more to you than just an idealistic Gryffindor."
"And perhaps I can say the same about you," Harry smirks. "Who knew you'd be such a whore. How many fingers did you stuff up your arse at home? Must have been at least four because you were soaking. Wet and hot and open just for me, weren't you? You practically swallowed my cock like a skilled slut."
"Are you complaining?"
Harry shakes his head with a feral grin. He can't find anything to complain about. Lucius is beautiful and impatient, his arse greedily taking Harry's cock deeper as if it is meant to be there. They do seem to fit flawlessly and Harry certainly doesn't feel lacking. He's panting because he's exhausted and because he might just come harder than he ever has. He can tell by the fervent twist in his gut and strain in his thighs. He might die from it and it would be a great way to go. "Fuck, I can't—how the bloody hell are you so tight!"
That makes Lucius laugh. He enjoys sex, craves it like some people might crave good food. Not only does he enjoy sex—he likes to get fucked. It's an unexpected side of him, he knows that. Right now, he wants Potter to give him the shag of a lifetime and the young man is certainly doing his best to achieve it. Lucius isn't sure how much more he can take without falling apart on Potter's pulsing cock.
"You're gagging for it, aren't you?" Harry snorts to himself and changes tactics. He wants to savour it because he might never get another chance. He slowly pulls out of the wizard's sore opening and grins. "You want me to fuck you properly, right? So get on your hands and knees and I'll fuck you good and proper until you can't even close your legs. You'll want my cock in that hungry hole of yours all the bloody time."
"If that constitutes as pillow talk—" Lucius says as he sits up and slips his arms around Harry's neck. "I'm impressed, Potter. And to think I considered sending an owl instead."
Harry nips at the blond's lips and gives his arse a light slap. "Hands and knees, Lucius."
Giving Harry a lingering kiss, Lucius moves like flowing water. Harry watches him and his throat tightens, almost desiccated. Lucius is tall and slender, chiselled out of marble and starlight. There is a subtle vanity about him; an ethereal being with eyes like antediluvian ice and skin as flawless as glass. He is striking; the most beautiful being Harry has ever laid eyes upon, but he is unmistakably male. The softness is perfectly balanced with his sharp features. Harry feels a ball of fire in his belly, rapidly gaining momentum and leaking into his legs and moving up into his chest. He forgets how to breathe; his skin tingles, hot all over.
Fuck, Harry thinks to himself, it's all totally fucked. He wants to run out of the room. He had played Malfoy's game at first but now it's far from an amusing diversion. The game is pretty much over because Harry doesn't want to fuck Malfoy out of his own anger or to later humiliate the man when he kicks him out. He started out wanting to throttle the man, but now he can't imagine letting him walk out the door. Malfoy is winning. Harry not only wants him but Lucius has made Harry need him.
The hot, velvety tightness is begging Harry to fill it and at that moment, Harry is a weak man. He pumps his cock a few times, coating his length with the pre-come dripping from the tip, and lines it up. They both groan as he presses on, smoothly gliding inside. Harry slides his hand down Lucius' slick back and slants his own body over the wizard's. He lays kisses on the blond's nape, his shoulders, his back, everywhere he can reach. Lucius must sense the change in Harry and cranes his head, looking into the wizard's vivacious green eyes that are clouded with emotion.
But Harry doesn't dwell on his inner turmoil for long and fixes his hands on the lovely hips of his lover and toys with Lucius, making him work for his own pleasure. "You want to get off, don't you?"
"Yes," Lucius hisses. His legs are already quivering from the strain of spreading them wide. His knees ache from kneeling and his arse is stinging. Potter has him like a puppet on a string and Lucius really doesn't want to wank himself raw in the wizard's bathroom with an empty, aching hole dripping with the lube he had used earlier and Potter's come. Now that really would be unbecoming of a Malfoy.
"There are other Ministry workers you can manipulate and bully, but you decided to target me. Why?" Harry questions, pulling out just enough to keep Lucius aching to be filled. "I'm not going to give you what you want unless you give me what I want, Lucius."
"People listen to you," Lucius replies and it sounds pathetic even to his own ears. He can't think about anything beyond Harry's fingers digging into his hips, his cock thick and snug inside, the tone of his voice—sultry as well as cold. "I know Davenport wants to get rid of you...that Crusher woman is his way of keeping his hands clean."
"And you are such a kind and noble person that you just had to come to my rescue?"
"I did you a favour," Lucius sneers but it comes out strangled as Harry rewards his attitude with a snap of his hips and propels the blond forward. Lucius rests on his elbows, head placed between his arms. He doesn't want to talk about his motives because he doesn't even know what those motives are at the moment. He had expected Potter to be malleable and eager but instead, the young wizard is completely in command of every little aspect. Potter controls the pleasure Lucius receives as if it is something he must earn from him.
"You know what I think?" Harry leans over Lucius' back and chuckles. "I don't believe a single word that passes over those lovely lips of yours. You thought I would just do as I was told like a good boy, didn't you? You thought that you could use me as a means to get what you want. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, Lucius."
"I'm not disappointed." Lucius looks over his shoulder.
Harry hesitates and his movements falter and that does not help at all. Maybe it's something in his face, an emotion left unsaid, but Harry's eyes never leave him. Even when he starts moving again—an aggressive and determined thrust following another—Harry doesn't look away.
Lucius has to be the one who breaks the moment because it's just too much. There can't be an emotional connection. Any type of sentiment was not supposed to be a part of this transaction. With that disturbing thought, Lucius tenses, body convulsing and twisting like poetry in motion. He makes the most delicious, illicit sound Harry has ever heard and it kicks him in the stomach like an invisible force. The younger wizard bends over Lucius' back like a blanket, panting heavily as he grinds his cock as deep as he can. He feels his insides twisting and quivering, the back of his thighs burning and pulling with tension, and then his orgasm snaps loose, like a mad dash of a wild beast. Harry thinks that he might just black out from the sheer pain of it as the tight, silky channel around his cock trembles and constricts, but he remains conscious and utterly drained.
Lucius is in an even worse state. He's teetering on the edge of a blackout, tender and shattered all over. He still feels Harry's hands on his skin and they are as clammy and warm as is the rest of him. Harry's spent cock slips out of his arse and he knows that he must be completely drenched inside, but that is the least of his worries. He's not shy about such things and he doesn't feel embarrassed about sprawling in a small pool of his own come with Harry's dripping out of him. Potter doesn't seem shy either as he collapses, knees giving out, and curls around the blond's depleted body.
There are important matters in the air that must be discussed but it's not a priority at the present time. Potter's lips are mouthing idle kisses on his shoulder, his fingers gently kneading his scalp and there is a pleasant silence around them. They will have that talk later.
(Aaand CUT!)
ooo
Harry sits on the bed with a pillow tucked under his arm, back straight against the headrest, and watches the man sleeping next to him. He still feels boneless, as if he had battled some type of magical creature with too tough skin and tentacles. He feels it in his arms and legs, in his back and neck, even in his chest—this throbbing fatigue. It has not yet been two hours since exhausting himself to the point of almost passing out.
Harry had vanished the damp and sticky mess they had made. He had even managed to pull on a pair of loose-fitting pants and found the edge of the sheet which he had then thrown over Lucius to give the man some modesty, not that Lucius has any need for it. He is as wanton and self-assured as a trained professional, that much Harry knows for certain.
He sits on the bed and tries to think—about the situation he is in and about the motives that had led Lucius Malfoy to his bed. Harry is sure that sex is as good a reason as any, but Lucius never does anything without another purpose hidden in the shadow of the obvious. But there is something even more important than Malfoy's motives. Harry's own reasons for going along with it.
There are a number of possibilities. He's lonely and has needs like any other healthy man. Besides, Malfoy had been persistent and more willing than any of Harry's other one time shags in the past. Malfoy is helping him keep his job, probably even helping him stay out of Azkaban, and Harry doesn't want to be ungrateful. Then there's the oath. However, Harry does feel that there is something bigger happening that he hasn't figured out yet.
He wants to take a shower, but he feels oddly comfortable where he is. He smells of sweat and sex but more importantly, he smells like Lucius. He doesn't want to wash it off just yet. Lucius stirs and pulls all of Harry's attention away from less pressing matters. He's gloriously bare with just a sheet covering his lower body. There is a satisfied glow on his skin. Harry really wants to know the secret of the man's perfectly preserved vigour and lithe, sculpted body. He wants to touch and stroke and kiss every inch of it.
Harry swallows his surprise when Lucius slithers closer and rests his head on Harry's thigh. Harry is even more surprised when he slides his fingers into the wizard's hair, gently stroking.
"I think we should talk," Harry tells the man, unsure why he feels the need to tear open the pleasant silence. Lucius, awake and contented, hums a response but doesn't speak. He is not the one who wishes to talk. Harry sighs. "What do you really want with me, Lucius? You have secured my compliance, I have made an oath and that's that—but it isn't, right? You want something else, something you think I can give you."
"I merely want you to support Astoria's candidacy."
Harry grips Lucius' hair a bit tighter and grunts. "Cut the crap. As funny as this might sound, but we're pretty much in the same boat now."
Lucius tilts his head up and there is a sliver of displeasure in his gaze, but he doesn't fight it and concedes. Finding a comfy spot again, the wizard puts his head back on Harry's leg and says, "Davenport is not who he pretends to be."
"Yeah, he's a fucking prat, but I already know that," Harry smirks, back to softly rubbing the blond's scalp.
"In his youth, he was a member of a group that protested against pure-blood supremacy, organised marches and plotted a Muggle-born invasion."
Harry hums. "I know he was a bit rebellious years back, but I thought that was just an embarrassing story from his past. He doesn't seem like the type right now."
"He has folders on a number of people. Wizards and witches who do not fit into his plans for opening up the wizarding world for new and improved ways of living," Lucius tells Harry, his voice growing colder. "He is the Muggle-born version of Dolores Umbridge who wants nothing more than to exterminate pure-bloods."
Harry's fingers stop moving and he asks, "Are you being serious right now?"
"He has many special investigators, such as Miss Crusher, and it is their task to monitor and gather evidence. Davenport plans to fill Azkaban up to the brim with wizards and witches he considers too pure. He believes that Muggle-borns will inherit the magical community and it is his wish to speed up the process."
"Aside from me—who else is being targeted?"
"Families that were once part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."
With an angry huff, Harry says, "When he wins the election, he'll have the power to make all his plans into a reality."
"That is the reason why Astoria is running as well."
"And that is why you want me to support her...because she has to win or we'll have another war on our hands."
"I have been working to get close to him for the past year. He believes that I will support him when the time comes and in exchange, he will not send me to Azkaban on some imaginary allegation."
Harry tenses up, mind furiously shifting gears. He doesn't want to know but has to know. "Did you let him fuck you?"
Lucius chuckles. "No, he considers my blood too dirty."
"But the other day, in the office—" Harry points out, starting to feel a touch of relief already. He hates the idea of Lucius with anyone else, acting so willing and needy and compliant.
"He is perhaps not as immune to my nasty, pure-blood wiles as he wants to believe." Lucius gives a small laugh. He shakes his head, adding, "I have not offered myself to Davenport."
The words have Harry's stomach fluttering with some unknown emotion. It's possessive, compulsive even, and the need to mark and claim and possess is gripping him all over. Urging Lucius to look at him, Harry asks, "What do you need me to do?"
...
(And a bit more. Skip the nice slash if you wish)
Lucius does not reply in words and Harry doesn't say anything as Lucius slinks between his legs and slowly starts tugging his pants down his thighs. Harry's cock certainly takes notice and the blond's fingers slip around it as it leaps out, jutting and proud.
Without thinking about it, Harry spreads his legs a little wider to give Lucius more room, and the wizard uses it to his advantage almost immediately, swiping his tongue from the base of Harry's cock right to the sensitive head. It is a bit of a miracle that the younger wizard is hard again after the most thorough shag of his life, but he can't finish the thought before Lucius wraps his lips around the tip and swallows Harry down to the hilt. Harry groans, long and deep—the mouth around him is perfect, silken and hot and utterly out of this world. He doesn't even dare slide his fingers into the man's hair but he needs to grab something and pull on it in frustration and pleasure. He clutches a handful of the pillow and moans, eyes screwed shut.
After driving Harry close to the edge, Lucius pulls off, running his tongue over his bottom lip. It is tantalising and the sight of him—eyes burning and lips shiny with spit—adds to Harry's thirst. He reaches out, rubbing his thumb over Lucius' lip, fingers sneaking behind his head. Harry urges him up and pulls him into a kiss. Lucius lets him in almost right away, mouth opening under Harry's probing, their tongues sliding against one another. Which of them moans is unclear, maybe both of them at the same time, but it doesn't matter. Coaxing the wizard to move up, Harry has Lucius straddle him, but it is different this time; slower, more attentive and with an intent to savour the act rather than chase the stars in the end. Harry wants to taste, touch and feel everything, so he runs one of his hands down from his lover's neck to the curve of his backside and pulls him closer until their bodies melt together.
Lucius is warm to touch, but shivering from the anticipation and need. He is still stretched from earlier, wet and open for Harry to just push in. It stings and makes the blond's breath hitch, but it fills him completely and unreservedly. Harry owns him.
Potter leisurely thrusts up in an unbearably slow tempo, hitting the right spot each time he goes in but leaving Lucius aching as he pulls out in a lazy beat. Harry's hand traces his spine up and down and Lucius clings to the dark-haired wizard, arms tightly clutched around Harry's shoulders and neck.
Harry doesn't want to be cruel and keeps his hips from snapping up too fast, but Lucius is desperate for more and presses down on Harry's groin, urging him to give him more, give him everything. The silent request is clear and Harry tries to satisfy the man in his arms because it seems like something he might want to do for the rest of his life. The thought is jarring and brutally honest.
Harry skims his hands down Lucius' sides and smoothes them over the wizard's arse, supporting his weight as he adds to his thrusts and properly plunders in and out. It doesn't take long with the added pace and force—Harry feels Lucius shuddering and arching in his arms, his mouth falling open around Harry's lips and a guttural moan mingling with Harry's own hoarse cry as the wizard buries himself to the hilt, his balls resting against the blond's arse. Lucius paints Harry's stomach with the pearly-white essence of his release and Harry keeps exploring the wizard's mouth with his tongue, swallowing every noise Lucius makes.
As they start coming down from the height of it, Harry nips at Lucius' mouth. He doesn't know what to say. So he doesn't speak at all and lowers Lucius on the bed. Potter's flagging cock is still inside, nestled in the soft heat and wetness of his own seed as he pushes Lucius into the tangled mound of pillows and sheets. He is in no hurry to leave and with their bodies interweaved together, Harry feels like sleeping for a hundred years. Lucius, spent and docile, buries his face into Harry's damp neck and sighs. They are both sated and undeniably heading towards the deep end.
(You can look now. End of slashy goodness)
...
ooo
Harry dreams of naked flesh and sweet lips on his and cold hands driving him wild with need and rage. When he wakes, he feels disoriented and alone—Lucius is no longer next to him.
The blond is dressed. He sits on the edge of the bed, looking utterly wrecked. He wants to say something but chooses not to. Instead, he gazes away and says, "I will speak with Astoria and tell her about your most gracious offer to side with her during her candidacy. The candidates will need to start their campaign and set up a platform in order to get the needed votes. She will contact you soon."
Harry feels a heaviness in his upper body, perhaps around his very heart, but he can't tell because every part of him aches. Lucius doesn't look at him when he stands and Harry can't get a word out. He knows that it must end now, but he doesn't want to let go. He fears that he will stop breathing once Lucius leaves; fears that he might ache for the rest of his damn life, he fears to yearn and fail and fade on his own. He wants to reach out and grab Lucius by the arm and wrench him right back into the bed. They could stay there, touching and feeling and fucking until the world collapses around them and vanishes into blackness. He manages to get out, "Lucius—"
The man looks broken, altogether wretched and angry as he says, "This is how it must be, Harry."
Then he walks out without looking back. He can't look because he will not be able to leave if he does. He knows that Harry understands even though the younger wizard doesn't want to. They can't be anything more than two men with an exciting memory of a few hours of tumultuous passion shared between them. It is just too much and too fast without reservations and any sense and it will burn out quickly and leave behind bitter ash. Lucius is selfish; he doesn't want to ache and hurt, he can't give himself so easily and without guarding his heart. Potter has the power to wreck him, shatter every part of him, and leave him damaged and spoiled. Harry will leave him trembling and bare. Harry will leave him. He will leave. It is better to be the one who leaves rather than watch Potter go when it is too late.
Lucius reaches the Apparation point and goes without glancing back. Malfoy Manor looms before him, the high iron gates melting away as he strides towards the house. The gardens look lovely but Lucius can't bear to look at the lush green yew hedges or the green bushes or the green grass. It's green, fucking vibrant green like Harry's blazing, fierce eyes. He wants to lock himself in his bedroom and slide his fingers inside his abused hole and pretend it's Harry who has him so hungry. The elf takes his coat in the parlour, popping away without a word. Astoria is sitting in the drawing room and spots him passing by.
Her voice is clear like clinking crystals as she says, "Lucius, you had me worried. You left to meet with Potter, and you have been gone for half a day."
Cursing his inability to evade the witch, Lucius tells her, "Potter made an oath, so you need not worry about him. He will support your candidature and help us with Davenport."
"That is reassuring," Astoria hums, a hint of a smile twitching on her lips. "Then again, Potter does not have a choice—he has much to lose should Davenport be allowed to implement his despicable plans."
"Let us discuss it some other time, my dear," Lucius suggest. "I feel a headache coming on."
"I'll have an elf deliver a pain potion to your room," Astoria gives a worried reply, her brows knitted together in concern as she watches her father-in-law. Her gaze follows Lucius up the staircase and until he vanishes around the corner.
The Malfoys have an unsavoury past—Astoria knows this well—but she is happy with her husband. Draco is accepting and adoring; Astoria finds no reason to complain. She knows that her husband loves her and he is a good father to their young son. Lucius, however, is a different breed of cat. He has none of Draco's softness when it comes to accepting and following. Lucius is not as agreeable or good-natured or placid as his son, but Draco has not always been that way either.
Astoria considers Lucius as her ally when it comes to matters that involve the protection of their family or financial affairs that concern their vaults. Lucius is still the head of the Malfoy family but Astoria is the heart that keeps the family alive. She is used to counting on Lucius' aid and support because Draco just doesn't have what it takes to lead and hold everything together. Her decision to run against Walter Davenport for the office is not something that came lightly, but the threat hanging over their heads is just too great. Lucius had supported her decision to involve Potter, and in the beginning, they had been doubtful. Now that she has Potter's oath, she feels more secure in her decision to go up against the Muggle-born who wants to destroy their world.
However, it seems to her that something else is now troubling her father-in-law. She cares for Lucius because he's a doting grandfather to Scorpius and a great friend to her, but Astoria knows that the wizard is a complicated person and likes to keep everything inside. This headache is just a convenient excuse, she knows, but Lucius needs time to simmer in it before she can wheedle something out of him.