Chapter 2.
Lucius woke to the extraordinary feeling of being wrapped within his coat. He'd been snugly tucked in, by Potter the blond realized, a musky cocoon of warmth and security tempting him back to sleep. He struggled to wakefulness, though, remembering he was married and trapped in the muggle world.
The warm smell of food helped. Tumbling from the bed, hampered by his inability to let go of his coat, the veela was surprised by the door's quiet opening at his approach. Down a spacious hall and a wide spiraling grand staircase, Lucius barely paid mind to his surroundings, blind to the gold furnishings and brilliant colors as his nose led him to the source of those delicious odors.
Pushing open a final door he beheld a kitchen to rival Hogwart's in size. Familiar conveniences and muggle contraptions stood together in chrome glory, and the blond stared agape at his surroundings for a long minute before he realized the eyes upon him. Harry Potter was sitting calmly at one end of a long, high marble topped table, his breakfast spread out before him ignored in favor of watching the veela who had interrupted his meal. For all its gleaming sterility the kitchen held an air of warmth, seeming to silently bid Lucius to explore its numerous drawers and shelves, to discover its stored treasures. He held himself still, however, uncertain of his welcome.
"Come here, Lucius," Potter invited, setting aside his utensils to beckon the older man closer. "Did you sleep well? Hungry?"
Lucius approached with caution, eyes darting about until he came up to the table and noted its lack. "There is only one chair." And he with no magic to create another.
"Yes." Potter smiled. "I'm usually the only one here. Come, we should get used to sharing, should we not?" Strong, slender hands held out for him and the blond frowned, realizing the young man's intent.
"I will not," he scowled, well aware he barely presented a formidable presence dressed only in his coat but keeping hold of what he could of his dignity.
"Would you stand and watch only then? Should I toss food your way, like scraps to a dog?" Potter's tone was teasing and he showed a handy trait to arch one eyebrow.
Lucius bristled at that, clutching his coat tighter. "I would have my own plate."
"There is none," Potter dismissed. "The elves are about other chores and I'll not interrupt their routine."
The bastard. His stomach rumbled and he inched his way closer, eyes on the pillowy mounds of eggs and the neat stacks of bacon and hot cakes. There was syrup there too, and warm rolls, juice and what looked like proper tea, such amounts of it he barely made a token protest when he was lifted, coat and all, and deposited onto Harry Potter's lap. An arm about his waist and the other hand lifted the tea cup to his clasp, breath warming his neck as Potter leaned in to nuzzle him.
"Go on, it's bottomless." So he did, great gulps of it until his husband tempted him with a buttered roll, followed quickly by a folded piece of bacon. Delicious, all of it, and he unconsciously began to roughly purr, relaxing further when Potter made no move to fondle him. His coat slipped from his shoulders as he reached for Potter's abandoned utensils, helping himself to eggs and syrup sodden cakes, eating his fill until his stomach fair groaned. So many days without food and he knew he should eat with more care lest he sicken, but he didn't want to stop until a hand captured his.
"Enough, my fox. Leave some room for lunch." With great reluctance he set down the fork and knife, and accepted a glass of pumpkin juice in their stead. Potter hugged him loosely, arms lost amidst the folds of his coat, and Lucius was surprised at what comfort he felt, the security of the youth's warmth at his back. Poisoned by the food, no doubt, to entertain such notions, but he was too lethargic of a sudden to care. Surrendering the temporarily empty glass to the youth's steadier hand the blond blinked slowly at the hand that was presently mapping his chest. Or was it moving at all?
"I think it's back to bed with you, fox. Finding your way down here and gorging yourself must have sapped what energy you've gained." Presumptuous brat.
"I do not want to sleep," Lucius stated clearly. "I want pants."
"Just pants?" Potter sounded very earnest, enough so that the older man twisted about to fix him with an assessing glare.
"Sod off, you insufferably-" the rest of Lucius' tirade was ended by Potter's mouth taking his, invading tongue lapping away the words that had filled his mouth until all that was left was the taste and sensation of Harry Potter. The man kissed like it was a pre-requisite at Hogwarts, skillful and demanding, his one hand tangling in Lucius' silver hair while the other stayed secure about his waist, large palm sending down pleasant warmth from where it rested on his stomach. Utterly possessed, and the former deatheater growled at that, biting at tongue and lips until he drew blood.
Potter did not throw him to the floor for his viciousness, nor strike him though he tensed for the blow. Tightening his grip on Lucius' luxurious mane until he arched helplessly, the sharp pain fair promising imminent baldness, Potter licked his bloodied lips and returned the favor in kind. He bit into the veela's bottom lip hard, rending tender skin, their blood and saliva a mingled tang Lucius whimpered for, painfully aroused. Tiny, nipping kisses traced down to his jaw and the brunette bit again, hard enough to draw blood and to force a startled cry from his husband.
"Do you like that, Lucius?" Potter purred into his ear before biting the lobe. The hand on his abdomen snaked lower and grasped his leaking arousal with rough confidence. The dual sensations made the veela growl and writhe in his husband's lap, helpless but to throw his head back and sharply pant. Long, strong fingers stroked his length, his pre-come slicking Potter's grip and sparing him the dry scrape of Quiditch calluses. A light, firm stroke that kept the veela mewling shamelessly, desperate to reach climax. "Do you like being dominated?"
No! But he couldn't find the words to deny the man, not with the waves of pleasure reaching a crescendo within him. He clawed at Potter's clothed chest, expensive fabric ripping under his hardened, lengthened nails. His husband didn't punish him for that either but to increase the tempo of his strokes.
"Come for me, silver fox. Show me how much I own you."
"Nnnn," Lucius clenched his teeth on his scream of climax, hips bucking helplessly as he shot over Harry's hand and onto the coat. He could not recall ever coming so hard and he sobbed at the force of it.
"Beautiful," Potter whispered, his touch gentling as he eased Lucius back down from the pinnacle. The veela could feel the heated throb of a man's erection beneath him, but his husband made no move to satisfy his own needs. The aggressive dominance faded, to be replaced once more by calming control. "I could watch you find your pleasure for hours."
Lucius wanted to retort, but he could not struggle free of the lassitude Potter's petting swept through him. He buried his face in his husband's neck, too confused and emotionally jumbled to retain the haughtiness of his cold façade. Embarrassingly grateful when Potter made no more mention of his weakness and let the quiet lull him to sleep.
Some minutes later Lucius woke to Potter gently shifting him about, putting his coat to rights as he stood them both up. "Let's get you dressed and then I want to show you the library. I've a feeling you will like it."
HPHPHPHPHPHP
The ornate double doors opened on their own, soundlessly gliding back to reveal one of the largest wizarding libraries outside of Hogwarts. Following behind his husband, Lucius had to admit he was impressed. By magical means the cavernous room stretched upward of six stories, floating bookshelves taking up most of the space, though some was given over to desks and their accompanying chairs.
Potter stopped near an anchored desk, dark hair falling into his eyes as he bent to lift a book from the floor. As soon as it left the floor it floated on its own, until with a gentle push it drifted off to find its own shelf. "Whatever subject you want to read about, just say, 'Library', and then the subject. When you're done with the book just let it go."
"Are these all wizarding books?"
"For the most part. I think Shakespeare is up there somewhere. You might like his work. There are no restricted sections."
"Have you read all of them?"
Potter laughed. "Merlin, no! Many of them were gifts. The Ministry gave me most of it, to study to defeat Riddle. My Dark Arts section is larger than Hogwarts and takes up most of the fourth floor. Really, the room is still under construction. Hermione thinks I should add stairs, but right now if I want to browse, I use my broom." He flushed, probably afraid that Lucius would disapprove, but the older man ignored him. After a tense silence, Potter continued. "I brought you here for a reason, obviously. Library, veela."
Lucius started at the subject of Potter's request, then stared in amazement as well over two dozen books floated down to the desk. They stacked themselves in neat piles, one on top of the other, though one near the bottom complained of being squished.
"Every book that references or deals with veelas," Potter explained.
"Have you read these because of me?" The idea was alien yet tempting, that Potter had wanted an understanding of his world this badly. Flattering, intoxicating, and somehow laced into the sudden surge of emotions, jealousy. His old master had forbidden him from learning of his heritage; declared him foul and tainted, barely deserving of Voldemort's generosity in sparing his life. He was a Malfoy and Slytherin, and that was all the world was to know him as. Not even Narcissa, when his hand had been sold to her venerated family, had ever known. The woman had died not knowing, honorably taking her own life when Potter had defeated Voldemort once and for all. Lucius' only regret in thought of his late wife was missing the opportunity to tell her she'd bedded a half-breed and borne his spawn.
"Lucius?" A warm hand touched his cheek and the veela unconsciously leaned into it as he lifted his gaze to his husband's. Potter smiled then, and leaned the short distance to kiss him softly. "I read all these books and more for you, luv. I wanted to understand, to be your source of comfort. With Hagrid and sometimes Remus, I traveled across Europe talking with veelas. I wanted to meet your every need. Two of the books are actual biographies and one is a copy of the first history written on the species. That one and others have never been read by non-veelas before, donated in the hope you could take what you could from them."
"This is," Lucius fumbled, unfamiliar with such generosity and ill-equipped to appropriately respond.
"Merlin, I love that look," Harry breathed. The wizard kissed him then, a possessive invasion that Lucius shamefully surrendered to, unresisting to the hands that clutched him tightly to the other man's hard length. Was it submission to his fate or desire for more that made him suck on the tongue playfully twisting against his own? Harry moaned his approval.
With a final swipe against his bottom lip Harry broke away, panting hard himself. "Love that look more." Fingers ghosted over his face and Lucius struggled not to flinch. This was legally his new master and his touch was far more pleasant than the others the veela had been forced to bear. Shamefully, a growing part of him enjoyed the gentle yet possessive care. Potter was not so unpleasant to look at and while he obviously desired Lucius' form he was willing to exchange access for mutual pleasure.
"Still too soon," the brunette said after a long minute, reluctantly pulling away. Taking a moment to compose himself Potter gestured at the books. "There is stuff I must do this morning so you can occupy yourself here. After lunch I will show you the rest of the house and the gardens."
It was like being a student again, but Lucius only nodded as Potter left him alone with the impressive stack of veela texts. To himself the blond could admit he was more than eager to get at those books. The truth of who and what he was, waiting for him in neat stacks. Whatever Potter demanded of him would be small pittance to feel whole again after twenty-five years of degradation and suffering.
TBC.