Disclaimer: Harry Potter solely belongs to Ms. Rowling. No profit or infringement intended.

Warning: Mature sexual content and severe use of vulgarity.

Grammatical and spelling errors are all my doing.

Chapter II

"Touch me again, Potter, and I won't hesitate." Malfoy sneered, poking his wand against Harry's chest just moments after the green fire dispersed, revealing a different and highly elegant fireplace. Harry, visible and cornered against the wall with a fuming blond only inches away from him, gripped the boy's ornate belt buckle and pressed their bodies together till the tips of their noses were in contact. He slid his hand behind the blond's lower back until he reached his destination. Malfoy gasped, his scowl deepening savagely but Harry disregarded it. He hadn't been this physically close to anyone since… ever. Ginny had been an exception. Harry only allowed things to go personal with her because Ron insisted it and Harry was hoping for the prospect that maybe, just maybe, he was wrong about his sexuality. But all the kisses and embraces and caresses and sex he'd shared with Ginny was no more appealing than feeding Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts. It felt all wrong; the way her lips move, the way her hands felt, her breasts, being inside her… It was all wrong. Harry knew, from that moment on, that whether with or without the sex or the physical affection, he would never have deep feelings for Ginny or any other girl for that matter. Hell, he should've learned that lesson when Cho had ruthlessly attacked him with that ghastly kissed in fifth year. Merlin, the girl was sloppy in the most disgusting way Harry could imagine. Puking after kissing Chang and not being able to have a hard-on for days after fucking Ginny were enough clues to solve his problem. Harry was irrevocably gay and right now, this very moment, having an angry Malfoy within his arms, flat against his chest with his hand deliciously pawing the boy's bum, Harry was literally pulsing with want and need. Malfoy, with his soft blond hair, his porcelain skin, those pools of gray pupils burning with hate, his slightly flushed cheeks that Harry so badly want to nuzzle on, those lips, fucking hell, those thin, masculine lips, slightly open, releasing heavy breaths, bloody hell, Harry wanted to stick his tongue inside and just explore it all night! Fuck, and I haven't even seen the rest of him yet. Not that I'll ever get the chance, I'm about to walk to my death after all. Harry thought sadly. His life was the worst ever. Just when he managed to get a bloke this close to snogging the heavens out of him, he had to decide to die. Huh… The world and its bloody kindness. Lost in one of his pitiful reveries again, Harry barely noticed Malfoy's lips moving. God, they look even more delectable when he talks.

"… What?" said Harry dumbly and absently watched those pink lips hardened with a frown. It took all his self control to not lean down and soften them.

"I said if you don't get your hand off my arse this instant, I'll cut it off and feed it to you." Malfoy spat, but kept his stand within Harry's hold. Harry pushed him closer and smiled when Malfoy raised his chin up to meet his eyes. God, he loved being tall.

"I'm deliberately handing myself over, Malfoy, give me a bit of credit." murmured Harry, nestling his face upon Malfoy's hair and felt the blond release a drumming breath upon feeling Harry's lips graze against his upper jaw.

"Deciding to be a suicidal idiot doesn't win you a shag, scarhead." said Malfoy with a not-so-nasty tone and tried to push Harry away, only succeeding when Harry allowed him. "And FYI, we're not where you think we are." he added, shoving his wand back inside his cloak and turning towards the only other door in sight.

Harry's brows scrunched. He gave one long look around the room. A large, emerald chandelier floated above the ebony ceiling, glaring portraits of blonds surrounded the room with the all-familiar face of Lucius Malfoy dominating them all with its huge silver frame placed above the human-size fireplace. Green and black chairs, settees and divans were situated in each corner, each one paired with glass tables with vases full of black roses. Harry had never been to the Manor but this seemed a lot like how he'd expected to look like.

"It seemed an awful lot like it is." Harry said and Malfoy responded, "It's not." before disappearing to the door. Harry, having no choice but to tail him, walked to the oak-made doors complete with silver, snake-like handles and gave a fighting glare to Lucius Malfoy's portrait before leaving the room. He was met with a long corridor, again filled with moving paintings of the Malfoy line, all of whom watched him suspiciously as he passed by. Malfoy was already several steps away from Harry when he made a left turn. Harry didn't quicken his pace till he heard voices from Malfoy's direction.

Harry sprinted, his saving-people sense tingling, until he was met by a sight that caught him dead in his tracks. There was Draco Malfoy, huddled tightly, possessively, around one long arm and being kissed, no, sharing tongues, with a half-naked, positively gorgeous Lucius Malfoy.

"Not… now…" Draco shuddered but didn't make a speck of attempt to escape his father's clutches. Lucius, looking immaculately pleased that his son's movements, or lack thereof, complied to his touch despite Draco's forced words, caught those thin lips that Harry was so fond of and, from where Harry could see, slithered his tongue in once more, of which Draco hesitantly welcomed in with a weak moan that made Harry sweat.

"What the fuck?" Harry was confused, again. He cannot be seeing this. He cannot be liking this. He cannot be fucking getting hard watching this. And for the love of all that is normal, it cannot be jealousy that he's feeling. Merlin, he cannot be jealous of Lucius fucking Malfoy. HE CANNOT. He cannot want to push him away and smash his own lips against that ferret-faced wanker. AND NO, HE CANNOT WANT TO JOIN THEM. BLOODY HELL, HE CANNOT YEARN FOR LUCIUS MALFOY TO STICK HIS TONGUE INTO HIS MOUTH. NO, HARRY POTTER CANNOT BE THINKING THAT.

"Good evening, Potter." Lucius smirked, Draco still trapped around his arm. Harry watched, wide-eyed, as the man's gaze drifted down slowly and Harry was forced to see the spectacular movement of Lucius' tongue wetting his bottom lip, still red from kissing.

"Would you like us to take care of that?" Lucius slurred, his eyes shamelessly eyeing Harry's tight trousers and the tent between it hungrily. Harry gulped, feeling his shaft jitter with excitement at the invitation. Yet, before he could answer, Draco released a sigh filled with irritation. He slipped away from his father's embrace and barked, "How fucking brilliant! Everyone's being a pervert tonight!" and stormed off to another room.

Both Harry and Lucius watched him go, the latter giving a light chuckle. Harry only did notice the goblet of sizzling Firewhisky Lucius was faintly holding with his other hand when the man drowned the drink with one go. "Forgive his temper. He'll loosen up when his tied and naked." Lucius said with a smile, his silk sleeping trousers, sheer enough that Harry could practically see his beautifully stiff penis, slid down his hips until tiny curls of flaxen pubic hair were apparent to Harry's eyes. About ready to spill his load after an image of Draco tied and naked flashed his mind, Harry desperately wished for those trousers to sink lower, one peek of Lucius' dick and he could relieve himself, save him from the desire to wank because, as much as the Malfoys were the core of his fantasies since this very night, he wasn't keen on having a memory of himself playing with his shaft with the names of a Death Eater and a school rival escaping from his lips. Harry was going to die with a virgin arse, whether he likes it or not and oh, how he hates it.

While Harry silently cursed his thoughts, Lucius' approach escaped his notice and Harry gasped at the burning tang of Firewhisky from Lucius' finger as the man traced his lips. "You have lovely lips, Potter. Mind if I taste?" he murmured, his breath strong with alcohol that made Harry dizzy. Lucius inched closer, his eyes reflecting his target, he carelessly dropped the empty glass, clasping Harry's body closer, but the sound of the goblet's impact on the floor jerked Harry to see a glimpse of where Lucius' intention was leading to and found the bit of courage to stop him.

"M-Mr. Malfoy, Please. You're lashed." he said clumsily and lightly pushed the man against the wall. Lucius blew the few strands of pale hair away from his face and clutched Harry's shirt, pulling him until Harry was resting against his chest, Lucius' arm locking him from behind. "Don't be a spoil sport, Harry, you can have your way with Draco later. You're mine for now." he whispered, fogging Harry's spectacles, a pinch of seriousness swimming in his voice that felt like fingertips sliding down Harry's back, making him shudder. Harry breathed in nervously, the tangy scent of Lucius' hair mingled with the whiff of Firewhisky blurred his senses. The arm around him softly tightened and Harry forgot the world and surrendered. The only other time he was held so intimately was by Sirius. His godfather had none but the wish to comfort Harry after Harry had unwillingly burst out all the boiling fury smoldering him during his fifth year, but the moment Harry found himself grasped within huge arms, his vision blocked by dark hair and a rough chin, Harry had an epiphany. Hermione's friendly hugs, Mrs. Weasley motherly embraces, Ginny's loving cuddles, they made Harry smile and feel better but it never reached the point where Harry wanted to melt in them, wanted to curl up closer, wanted to weep warm tears and just be weak and fragile. Sirius, he did more than reach that point, he exceeded it tenfold. Sirius had lightened his burden completely, he made Harry feel protected and utterly loved, he made him feel that being human was enough, that no matter the height of Harry's failures, he will always be cradled with as much warmth and love. And Harry knew, when he sank his face upon his godfather's neck, that only a man can do this. Only a man's love can content him. Now, despite the inappropriate timing, Harry wanted to be weak again. He wanted to feel loved again. Lucius lifted Harry's glasses from his eyes and planted ghostly kisses on his eyelids, and Harry's hesitations and common sense dispersed. He yielded his body to Lucius and the man sheltered him with both arms. Harry trembled when Lucius' arousal made itself obvious and unintentionally whimpered when Lucius growled at feeling Harry's own excitement. The man stared down at him with shadowed eyes, his lips parting when Harry looked back at him with hooded eyes. Lucius wasted no time after Harry mimicked him and opened his own lips, before Harry knew it or even comprehend the unlikeliness of the situation, Lucius engulfed him with his mouth and Harry had unclenched his teeth to allow entrance to the tongue before he could stop himself. Just as Harry was beginning to respond with the kissing and rubbing, Lucius slipped a hand inside Harry's trousers from behind and Harry nearly screamed when a finger skimmed between his cheeks. Upon lousy attempts to wander through Lucius' alcoholic mouth further and increase the force of their colliding pricks, Harry fell deft to Draco's reproaching voice.

"Father, that's enough." Draco said, pressing more depth on his tone. "Bloody hell, I leave you for five minutes and you're seconds away from popping Gryffindor boy. Griffin! And for bloody sake, get your hand off his arse – Griffin! Move, Potter." Draco separated them, dragging Harry by the arm to the opposite wall and gave Lucius a vial bubbling with black liquid. "GRIFFIN! Fucking elf – Dad, stop disrobing me." Draco slapped Lucius' hands and fixed his blazer to its place, uncorking the vial, Draco pushed it under Lucius' nose and Harry watched the dark smoke fade to Lucius' nostrils. Lucius exhaled instantly, his face altering from drunken intoxication to disgust but proceeded to let the awful smell juggle him awake. "Drink. Then put on something decent. I can't have Potter drooling over you when he's got a lot of explaining to do." he said sternly, handing the potion to his father and giving him a peck straight to the lips. Lucius had an unreadable look but did as he told, his face smoothening after Draco's light kiss.

"Young Master Malfoy requires Griffin?" Harry, busying himself with cleaning his fogged glasses just so to avoid the blond, saw a vague figure half Draco's size standing beside the blond. Draco turned to the elf and Harry needn't need his spectacles to recognize his sneer. "Took you long enough, you little prick." snapped Draco, hanging his hands on his hips to stress his disapproval. Harry, instantly putting on his glasses, saw with amazement the garments the elf wore. Griffin, as he was called, wore a miniscule green tuxedo complete with a neck bow, white gloves and small leather footwear. Chin up, chest out, ears calmed, Griffin only responded with a bow, an elegant, chest-leveled bow. "My apologies sir, Griffin's services were occupied by the professor. What may Griffin assist Young Master Malfoy with?" the elf's voice was squeaky but smooth, he did not stutter a word. Harry watched him with pure curiosity and wondered what Dobby had done so badly to the Malfoys that he didn't own a voice as confident as this Griffin.

"Kindly escort Mr. Potter over here to the loo. I think he's in need of a release." He said, looking from Griffin, who neither reacted to his master's orders nor paid Harry any attention, to Harry, who did the opposite. "And, if it fits his fancy, ask the professor if he could spare the rest of the night from his experiments and join us for tea. Tell him we have an interesting guest this evening." Draco continued, eyes still lingering on Harry.

"As Young Master Malfoy wishes, Griffin shall comply." said the elf with an elegant bow and approached Harry. "Mr. Potter, please follow Griffin." he said before making an about-face and walking towards the corridor with precise little steps.

"Go ahead, Potter." Draco said when Harry didn't move and gave a bit of attention to his hard groin. "That won't take long." he added before striding back to the room he disappeared to earlier.

::

Five minutes and Harry was drying the sweat from his temples and the spunk from his penis. Once Harry entered the door Griffin directed him to, he thought the elf had led him to the outside pool by mistake but Harry caught sight of the cubicles – there was a row of them – on one corner and several basins opposite it. The tub, of which he thought to be a swimming pool, although it lacked difference, had an emerald statue of a serpent surrounding it, its head perched on the front side with its mouth stretched open, revealing fangs that looked too real. The walls were of translucent glass with a vista of the sea, the ceilings were made of mirrors with hovering bubble-looking chandeliers and the floor, like the walls, were glass-made, beneath it, marine creatures swam, like a huge aquarium. Everything glittered here and there and Harry thought who was Malfoy kidding? This was Malfoy Manor.

He took a leak and washed his hands and face, hoping the cold water would lessen the reddening of his face. Harry squinted his eyes to the mirror and was a bit relieved to see his normal colour, but frowned again at the clarity of his scar. He hid it behind his bangs – only about the only thing his hair was good for – and charmed his glasses clean. He was a mess from the neck down. Sweat dampened his armpits, his shirt had apparent wrinkles and MERLIN, are those hickeys? Funny, he didn't remember Lucius kissing his neck, he can't remember him kissing his neck THAT many times either. "Bleeding Christ…" he murmured after he took of his shirt. Nearly the whole of his neck had spots of red, Harry prod one sore area with a finger and expected it to hurt or itch, but it tickled. He pressed another area again and chuckled. Are hickeys suppose to tickle? "Weird…" Harry said to himself, turning to see if he had any on his nape, there were only several.

"Damn, I need a shirt." he muttered, looking at his garment with distaste. Outside were two Malfoys and, according to Draco, a professor. Who it was, Harry didn't know. He can't go out there with a neck full of love bites and a smelly shirt. Merlin knows he'd already made a clown of himself far enough. But then again, why should it matter? Harry planned to die tonight anyway. He wasn't the sort who dress up for his own funeral and it's not as if he had that much of decent clothes. Vanity for garments wasn't something he felt spending money on. Living with the Dursleys taught him to value whatever he's got, especially the smallest of things. "I'm about to die and I'm making a fuss over impressing the Malfoys." he said to his reflection.

"Well, what a shame. I would've loved another spectacular show." a voice said and Harry presumed a moment it was one of those mirrors that talk but he noticed a form of a body hovering beside his mirror image. Harry turned and searched the room, expecting to see one of the Malfoys, but he was alone. He stared back at the reflection, it smiled at him, no, it smirked at him. "Malfoy?" Harry leaned to the mirror, not particularly sure which Malfoy he was referring to. The body mimicked him, only his head popped from the mirror and Harry swore, if he were flesh, he could've kissed Harry. Harry jolted away, nearly falling on the toilet and watched when the body flew from the mirror and stood right in front of him. It was a ghost, a butt-naked ghost. "W-what— W-Who?" Harry stuttered, inching back to the cubicle, trying to force his eyes away from the ghost's lower parts and failed.

"Well this isn't fair." he said and Harry's eyes jerked back to him, the smirk appeared again. "What? What isn't fair?"

"You get to see mine but I can't see yours." he replied, his hand tracing down his groin. Harry gulped, unable to keep from watching. The ghost looked a little older than Draco, he sounded nearly like Draco and his hair was shoulder-length and blond like Lucius'. Harry blinked and blinked, but this was no figment of his imagination. A Malfoy ghost. A naked Malfoy ghost.

"Who— Who are you!" Harry demanded, ignoring the ghost's last comment and trying to wish away his growing arousal. The ghost gave a small smile and walked – glided – closer till he was leaning on the cubicle's door with Harry flat against the wall. The ghost watched Harry's eyes travel up and down in amusement.

"Who I am is lesser the significance of who you are, sire." he neared Harry. "My name dominates books, the whole of the Malfoy Library, as a matter of fact. You are more than welcome to probe whenever it fancies your interest. I don't see the need to waste our meeting on such nonsense. I would much rather prefer to know who those ravishing green eyes belongs to." his voice was pleasure to the ears and Harry couldn't steady his breathing. He was suppose to be immensely tortured and eventually killed, not constantly having his organ played with by bloody Death Eaters, let alone, a bloody ghost.

"Well, I'm no different. I've been on the papers and if my plan goes on track tonight, there'll certainly be books written about me… Unfortunately. So why don't you save your curiosity for when that arrives, it won't be long. I'll be on my way then." he said briskly and skid out the cubicle, shuddering when his hand passed through the ghost's lower portions.

"Ah." he smiled. "I thought that scar looked familiar. You look sexier in person, mind you. They never get photos of your good side and you always look disgruntled when you're on the front page." the ghost soared above Harry and settled before the door. "A word of advice, Mr. Potter, have a wank before facing the media, it relaxes the muscles and adds colour to the features. Then Draco and I would have something better to pleasure ourselves with." Harry's hand froze from reaching the handle.

"What… What do you— Who are you?"

"Brutus Malfoy. Writer and homosexual. Pleasure." he purred with a wink. Harry's cheeks burned. The urge to run back to the cubicle and attend to his body's pleads seemed his most important priority at that moment. It was painful to resist unbuckling his belt and just watch this alluring creature do his charm. It was only then Harry began to see how extremely moronic it was to bribe Malfoy. This was not included in his plan. Naked Malfoys and cocks, as much as they allocate the exact opposite of pain, will certainly be the death of him if he didn't leave now. And Harry, no matter how unpleasant it sounds, would much rather prefer to die a painful death.

"Lovely. Well, this has been interesting and bizarre, but I have to go. So if you just… fly off." said Harry with the calmest voice he could muster.

"Oh, certainly. I wouldn't want to be a burden of your time. However, it would only be appropriate for me to advise you that you are dealing with man-eating sharks beyond that door and to attend evening tea with such company half-bare wouldn't be so wise." Brutus said pragmatically. "And, as much as it distresses me to state the obvious, I doubt that little problem of yours will escape their notice either. It's not actually very little." he added, his eyes smoldering the dent between Harry's legs with bold interest.

"Fuck…" Harry muttered as he looked down at himself. As the ghost had said, his chest was bare, the hickies completely unavoidable from prying eyes, and the bulge of his arousal was anything but obscure.

"I'll be much oblige to help and find you a decent upper garment… only if you let me watch." said Brutus, surprising Harry with his sudden approach. Harry staggered back until he was cornered against the rows of washing sinks. Only his lower half seemed to disagree with his common sense.

"I— I'd rather help myself, thanks." he stuttered and gulped when Brutus only responded by stroking his own stiff shaft. Harry had never imagine the day he will be more than willing to jerk off in front of a ghost. A Malfoy ghost for Merlin's sake. "G— Griffin! Help!"

"Mr. Potter requires Griffin's assistance?" the squeaky voice came from beside him and, for the first time, Harry started to loathe magic. He turned to the little elf, who didn't seem at all bothered by Harry's appearance, but before Harry could verbalize his escape,

"How strangely titillating, Mr. Potter, I'm deeply offended that you much rather have a little servant elf to assist your discomfort. You aren't the dominating sort, are you? Because, I'll tell you now, Lucius is deeply talented in that department. Draco lost his voice from all his screaming during his seventeenth birthday. It was marvelously done. The poor boy couldn't seat properly for a month. And I suppose those adorable, little marks were his doing?"

Only when the elf, Griffin, cleared his throat – sounding more like a broken squeal – did Harry realised his mouth was hanging open and his lungs were labouring with heavy breaths. Not caring that there's a perverted ghost and an intimidating elf in the room, Harry hurriedly unzip his trousers, snatched his pulsating dick from inside his pants and one, two strokes later, he was streaming a trail of milky fluids on the mirrors, his moans echoing around the walls.

"Damn..." a loud bang drowned his voice and Harry, eyes still on the mirror, was positive it was a real Malfoy walking in the door this time.

"Damn it, Potter! What's taking you –" Draco froze, his hand still on the handle. "so long…" Harry watched the blond's eyes drive down his reflection until they rested on Harry's palm still stroking his tool.

"Very long." Brutus added, now floating in the mirror and tracing Harry's cum as it slithered down to one of the basins. Apart from his hand, Harry stood very still, looking anywhere but Draco, who seemed neither capable of using his voice. Griffin broke the awkward silence with his squealing grunt.

"Griffin suggests Mr. Potter to try this garment." Harry directed his eyes to the elf and found a clean black cloth neatly folded on its little hands. Harry quickly grabbed it and dashed to the cubicle, Draco was still there.

"I'll be out in – in a moment." he said, the tremble in his voice evident. Harry waited for a snidey answer or the banging sound of the door shutting close but none came. Only Brutus Malfoy's amused voice occupied his ears. "Well, Draco dear, you never mentioned a new toy. Don't you want to share anymore?" Harry heard him say with a chuckle.

"Oh, so this is all your doing now, is it?" Draco scolded like a parent. "What have I told you about molesting the guests? This the guests' loo and, if I remember clearly, father forbade you after that incident with the professor!"

"Why, Draco, I did no such thing! In fact, as much as it pains me, I can't do such things! Molest the guests before evening tea! How entirely un-Malfoy behavior. I was only… associating with Mr. Potter and he seems to find my company passable." answered the ghost indignantly.

"Oh, do shut up. I haven't the time for petty arguments. Do the three of us a favour and go dangle yourself to the portraits in the West Quarters unless you want father to discipline you again. As for you, Potter, if you're incapable of keeping your mind out of the gutter then I suggest a cold swim. Make it fast, unlike the rest of the bloody world, we have better matters to indulge our time with than worship the ground you walk on." Harry hadn't expected a quick recover from Malfoy and was left alone before he could justify his own self.

"He likes you." said an all too familiar voice, Harry searched around and his eyes caught the face of Brutus Malfoy hovering on the cubicle door, holding a smile that looked inches short from a smirk. Harry's eyes made a clockwise.

"Sarcasm isn't becoming of you." Harry said and received only a friendly chuckle. "I've seen lads like you comeand go, Mr. Potter. Don't be surprise if this evening ends differently. Trust my word. Ta." and he was gone, the last Harry saw of him was a knowing grin that knotted Harry's stomach. After what he'd gone through the last few hours, it wasn't so difficult believing Brutus' words.

The plan to escape sounded only sensible. Harry considered Apparating but whilst he thought of a location, it dawned to Harry that he was still three days young from legal age, the Order is probably searching every corner of Great Britain by now, maybe even watching the Floo networks and other form of magical transport in hopes that his name would appear. Then again, the chances of them apprehending him will be less likely if Voldemort got to him first. Harry frowned, Voldemort didn't know that the Order was busting him out of the Dursley's three days early, it was the whole point of the plan and, unless information leaked, Voldemort would be patient, he would prepare thoroughly.

"Shit…" he didn't know getting himself killed on purpose would be more complicated than keeping himself alive. Then again, when were things ever easy for Harry Potter?

As far as Harry thought of it, he had little choice. Giving in with a sigh, he shed all his clothes off and dived in the massive pool. There was no reason at all to rush things, whatever it is that's going to happen tonight, it was better than bothering himself with the rest of the world's problems.

Reviews and criticism are encouraged.