Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and its characters are not mine.

Warning: Sexual content

A/N: A continuation of a little something that took place entirely in the bedroom.

And the Knight Speaks

3. Fish

In an unhurried pace Lucius descended the grand dark wood staircase to where Harry, drenched by the evening shower, awaited. Candles guttered and shadows writhed in an ever-evolving dance; stained glass glittered with a rainbow of colours. A chill hung in the air, preluding the coming of midwinter and the deepening of darkness. Like a hunter Harry was watching Lucius with wary, hungry eyes, and Lucius, a hand on the polished banister, halted on the steps and contemplated Harry in turn.

A damp navy blue raincoat enveloped Harry's figure as if it were made solely for him and no one else. Wet, unkempt dark locks fell upon his brow in casual disarray. A shadow of weariness haunted his expression, and a hint of stubble peppered his chin. It was a long day at work for his liege, Lucius deduced. When their eyes met, a ghost of a smile played upon Harry's lips, sensual lips that had developed a taste for Lucius' body. Nevertheless, Lucius had an inkling Harry came to him tonight for more than just the pleasure of his company.

Playing the part of the gallant knight, Lucius smiled and went to Harry and kissed his cold hand. The silver signet-ring on Harry's ring finger was colder still. How long had he been out there in the rain, Lucius wondered. "Good evening, my liege. You look fetching tonight."

"You like me dripping wet, don't you?" Harry said with a hint of wryness.

"It is quite a revelation, yes," Lucius admitted. He entertained the idea of Harry (naked as nature intended) frolicking in the lake like some seductive kelpie in human guise, yearning to be ridden. If Lucius had been younger and more foolhardy, he would have joined the creature in the lake and consequences be damned. "This coat is very becoming on you."

"A friend insisted that I need it," Harry mumbled. Behind his black-rimmed round glasses, green eyes cast Lucius a half-closed gaze, a gaze laden with meaning. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything." Your schemes, for example, he seemed to imply.

"Not at all. Your presence brightens my lonely nights," Lucius said in a mild tone. It was not a lie; nevertheless, Harry stared at him as though torn between knowing better than to believe his words and wanting to believe him all the same.

Wanting to reassure his liege, Lucius ran a finger down Harry's cold, wet cheek, tracing an imaginary tear streak. Harry did not blush or flinch; instead, he pressed his lips together and held his breath. "Allow me," Lucius murmured, and Harry, gazing into his eyes, acquiesced.

Taking his time, Lucius drew his wand from the sleeve of his robe (of the deepest and darkest of green), studied the flawless woodwork for a beat or two, and waved his wand lazily at Harry's direction. The spell ran its course in barely a heartbeat. Thus warmed and dried, his liege seemed to regain some of his spirit. His duty done, Lucius put away his wand.

"Thank you." Harry stepped forward and ensnared Lucius in his arms, as if seeking body heat that was not his own. "But I was hoping you would warm me up with your body and not your wand." A beat. "Well, not this wand."

Lucius indulged Harry with a chuckle or two, and Harry shivered, though out of apprehension or excitement Lucius could not rightly tell. "As you wish. Shall we?" With that Lucius slipped out of Harry's embrace and offered his hand to Harry, who, after a beat or two, clasped his hand and led the way upstairs to the bedroom, where firelit warmth and velvet comfort awaited.

As soon as the door was closed behind them, Lucius and Harry came together and shared a kiss, a kiss that led to a succession of ever-deepening kisses. Clothes were shed and discarded on the floor like reason and restraint, leaving only instinct and impulse behind. His fingers tangled with Lucius' fingers, Harry invited Lucius to the bed, and Lucius followed his liege's lead.

On the velvet bed, time was measured in breaths and heartbeats. Lucius took his sweet time with Harry, nibbling an earlobe here, teasing a nipple there, kissing where his liege liked to be kissed, fondling where his liege liked to be fondled. On this cold, wet night, Harry smelled like rain in the winter woods. Perhaps that was where he had been before coming here, Lucius mused while pleasuring his liege.

A low moan fell from Harry's lips, and a shiver coursed through his body. After giving Lucius a feverish look with those moist green eyes of his, Harry caught him by the nape and kissed him. Distracted by his lord and lover, Lucius let go of his musing and savoured the sensation of Harry's tongue duelling with his tongue. Not a gentlemanly duel in any way, but a duel nonetheless, albeit one with neither a victor nor a loser.

Had he ever duelled with Harry in the past? Lucius found himself wondering. With his arms full of the young man in question, the answer drifted ever out of reach, and he let it be.

When Harry drew away from Lucius, his downcast eyes roamed over Lucius' body. As though it were the most natural thing to do, he reached down and massaged where his knight liked to be massaged. A tingling sensation rippled from Harry's caressing hand to the base of Lucius' spine, a sensation that brought forth a flicker of lust and a flush of warmth in Lucius.

"How would you like it tonight?" Lucius breathed against Harry's lips, and Harry, ever so gently cradling Lucius' nape, told his knight what he wanted. "Very well, my liege." And with that Lucius urged Harry to lie down on the bed, brushed his lips against Harry's collar-bone, and kissed his way ever downwards, his long pale hair trailing along Harry's skin like many a spider's thread.

Raindrops splashed against the windows like sprays of sea water; the sheet rustled beneath Harry like the rustling of a fish tail. Giving Harry the pleasure he sought, Lucius let Harry's panting, sighing and moaning wash over him. As he felt Harry's fingers entangle with his hair, he wondered which one of them was caught in the net—him or Harry or both of them.

When it was over, Lucius sat on the bed, his mouth tasting of Harry, a taste that reminded him of the sea. Breathless and listless, Harry lounged upon the bed, arms raised above his head. His eyes—green as stained glass, lustrous as dewdrops, naked as his body—were gazing at Lucius, as if searching for something that eluded his grasp. He seemed unguarded, weary, dazed, vulnerable; he was beautiful.

His lips parted, Harry hesitated for a moment before letting out a breath, a breath hinting at words that were left unsaid. Looking away from Lucius, he rested his hand on his abdomen. The signet-ring glinted silver and ruby on his ring finger. The sight of Harry wearing nothing but the ring in bed rather pleased Lucius' ego. Did his liege put the ring on solely for the occasion, or did he wear it all the time for the whole world to see?

"Mr Malfoy—"

"Call me Lucius."

Wetting his lips, Harry shifted in languor upon the rumpled sheet, his leg brushing against Lucius' leg. "I won't be able to see you for a while, and I don't want you to think I've gotten tired of you."

Raising his eyebrows, Lucius contemplated the young man whose company he came to enjoy—perhaps more than he ought to. Swearing allegiance to the saviour of the wizarding world had been a part of the game, a connection that would serve his and his family's best interest. Nonetheless, he had not anticipated how brazen yet elusive Harry would be—or how much he came to like his young lord.

"Yes, it would sadden me if I were to learn that I've lost your favour," Lucius said. "I assume it is because of work? You are the Ministry's busiest Auror after all."

A bitter smile played about Harry's lips. "Yeah, something like that." Ever so slowly Harry got up and climbed onto Lucius' lap like a cat seeking a warm place for a nap. "You'll probably grow tired of me sooner than I would grow tired of you," he said wryly, his finger toying with a lock of Lucius' hair.

"I won't lie." Slipping his arms around Harry, Lucius savoured the body heat and the sensation of naked skin to naked skin. "I like you more than you think, but you don't have to believe me."

There was a flicker of emotion in Harry's countenance, and those glazed eyes of his met Lucius' steady gaze. Several beats later, Harry lowered his gaze and pressed a kiss upon the corner of Lucius' mouth. "You always know how to make my nights better."

Unspoken words hung in the air like a wisp of smoke, but Lucius caught them all the same: You always know what to say and when to say them. "The pleasure is mine," he said aloud. "I am yours to command, my liege. All you have to do is ask."

Averting his eyes, Harry made a humming sound and ran a warm, caressing hand over Lucius' chest, his palm tickling Lucius' skin and Lucius' heart. "Does it depend on how I ask?"

Lucius allowed himself a small smile and took Harry's hand in his. "Give me an order, and I shall fulfil it to the best of my ability." With that he brushed a kiss upon the back of Harry's hand; his gaze, however, was fixed upon Harry's face. "Be it for your pleasure or for your work."

A look of wariness came over Harry's visage for a heartbeat or two before he let out a breath and draped an arm over Lucius' shoulder. "And in exchange," he murmured, "I would have to make you happy, don't I?"

"You already have, my liege." Playing his part in this dance of theirs, Lucius rested a hand on the small of Harry's back. "What do you desire?"

"Other than you?" Harry said in half jest. He traced the curve of Lucius' shoulder-blade with his fingers, as though tracing the path of his train of thought. A moment later, his expression grew more sober. "I want information."

"What would you like to know?"

Looking ever so pensive, Harry stared at his hand that was held in Lucius' hand, thinking of what Lucius had only the vaguest idea. "Suppose a Death Eater is on the run, where would the Death Eater go? Who would help the Death Eater hide or help him leave the country?"

Lucius thought about the letter he received the other night—the letter he had read, replied to and burnt while Harry was lounging naked on this very bed, watching him. "That depends on the Death Eater in question."

With an intent look Harry held Lucius in his gaze, his eyes capturing Lucius' visage in their green depths. "I can't tell you," he said quietly. "But you probably have your suspicion. After all, you like keeping yourself informed."

The jab was hardly subtle, but Lucius did not mind. He quirked his lips in a sardonic smile and bowed his head. "Do you suspect me of harbouring a fugitive?"

"No," Harry replied without hesitation. "You have nothing to gain and everything to lose."

"Your trust, for example?" Lucius remarked in perfect nonchalance. There was no reply. "I shall find out the whereabouts of your mystery Death Eater to the best of my ability." He sealed his vow with a light kiss upon Harry's lips. "Is that all?"

"Don't do anything dangerous."

Grey eyes narrowed, Lucius beheld the young man who had a penchant for plunging headlong into danger with the slightest of provocation. "By danger, are you referring to danger to my person? Or danger to someone else?"

The curve of Harry's lips became ever so wry. "I'll let you decide," he said, his fingers drumming the beat of an imaginary song upon Lucius' shoulder. "Do you have time tonight? Or are you expected elsewhere?"

A scene from the past flickered in Lucius' mind like an after image: Narcissa rearranging books in the library of Malfoy Manor, her lips pressed together and her eyes fixed upon nothing but the books before her. In the next moment, the vision faded and returned to whence it came, leaving only a shadow behind. No, he was not expected.

"My nights are reserved for you, my liege," Lucius whispered while running his fingers along the curve of Harry's spine, and he pictured sweat glistening like fish scales on Harry's naked back as he took his liege from behind.

Stirring ever so slightly in Lucius' lap, Harry gave Lucius a long, hard look. A moment later, he coiled his arms around Lucius' neck and leant over him. "There is something else I want to know," he breathed against his knight's lips, his voice husky and low. "How do you want me tonight, Lucius?"

Appeased on one count and yet to be satisfied on another front, Lucius teased the tip of Harry's spine with his fingers and told his liege what he desired. Without further ado Harry sealed Lucius' mouth with a hungry kiss and fell with him onto the bed, his fingers caught in the locks of his knight's long pale hair.


Finis...?

A/N: This part is inspired by Dir en grey's "Phenomenon". A kelpie is a shape-shifting creature that usually takes the form of a black horse; it is also known to take on the guise of a beautiful human. I had wanted to write something from Lucius' perspective, and it took much longer than I had initially anticipated. Thank you for reading.